Pulling Turnips
by Senescence
Summary: Molly's the heiress of a renowned produce company. Kasey's a rancher who left Harmonica a long time ago. Their lives and those of Castanet's quirky populace collide. My take on Animal Parade's story. Pairings are secret! HIATUS!
1. Chapter 1: Princess

Chapter 1: The Rancher Princess

Disclaimer: Don't own it. If I did, I'd put pictures on the loading screens and invent a more complex interaction system with the characters.

I've always wondered why the farm's default name is "Green." It seemed strange when everyone else had instruments. Here's my take on _Harvest Moon: Animal Parade_'s story.

* * *

><p>The Green Family ruled the produce world. Farms, ranches, and grocery stores comprised their vast and regal empire. Green, standing as <em>the<em> produce brand in every family's home, boasted "affordable quality" in glittering letters beneath its Turnip emblem.

Lord and Lady Green were deeply proud of this magnificent company, which had humbly began as a small, family-owned farm. With natural skill and stubborn dedication the Greens had transformed its few acres to hundreds of international holdings.

However, in the summer of Lord and Lady Green's grand career occurred one life-changing event. The object of their pride was no longer success, or wealth, or devotion to a cause, but the birth of a baby girl. She was named Molly.

Molly Green, heiress to the Green Farming Estate.

Baby Molly cooed in her mother's arms. Her chestnut hair, curling softly round her pink face, was brushed aside by Lady Green's delicate finger.

"Yes," Lord Green affirmed proudly, raising Molly high where she squealed in delight, "She shall make a fine rancher! My baby girl, you will change the lives of many, as you have changed ours." Then, cuddling Molly in his arms, he kissed her forehead.

X

"So you came here," Molly began in a tone between skeptical and sympathetic, "to pick me up because I'm the most suited for this job?" The seventeen-year-old skipped over the bicycle rack without breaking stride. Head down, eyes forward, sweat trickling, Molly was currently in 'quick getaway mode'; _obviously_, Molly realized, the rack won't stop the thing bobbing in midair behind her, which had already been keeping up fairly well.

"Yes!" it yelped in relief. "Oh, thank the deities you understand! Now we should leave as soon as possible-"

"Hang on." Just a few more yards to the gate where her limousine was waiting. The teen picked up her pace. "I haven't agreed to anything yet. Please understand." She stopped suddenly, making the creature stumble midflight, and met its eyes. "I can't go anywhere. I've got responsibilities _here_." She gestured to the clock tower of her private academy and its uniformed populace. "I've got school, as you can see-"

"But-"

"And my parents-"

"I know-"

"-and my friends and-" her voice cracked, "a company to inherit. I'd love to help, but asking me to go someplace I've never even heard of before when we just met is just... it's asking too much. I'm really sorry." With that, she bowed quickly and, before the creature could say more, set off on a dead run.

"Wait, Molly!" It flew after her, and smacked face-first into a tinted window as she slammed the car door shut.

The limousine drove away, leaving the creature tumbling to the asphalt.

Finn rubbed his flattened nose and grumbled. "This's harder than I thought. But I'll prove myself! I won't fail you, Goddess." A memory made his stomach churn: that of a once beautiful tree, now pale as bone. "Please don't give up." Finn rose to the air dizzily, thinking: He had crossed the Cymbal Sea, endured the toxins of city pollution, searched every school and household for a youth that could see him, and now that he'd finally found her, he'd be damned if he gave up now. "Wait for me, Goddess." Finn whispered as he watched the limo turn a corner. "I'll be back with Molly Green, or perish trying!"

X

"Excuse me, Mayor... Molly dear, you're home! How was school?"

"It went well, Mother." The uniformed teen kissed her mother's cheek.

Lady Green was cross-legged at the long mahogany dining table, a phone on one ear; papers on company finance strewed the tabletop. "Did you learn anything new today?"

"Actually, I did." Molly skipped up the marble stairs. "Did you know fairies exist?"

"Oh really? How so very interesting." Lady Green perused a file.

"Isn't it?" Molly said cheerfully. "I always thought they granted wishes though, not asked for them."

A door shut forcefully upstairs. Lady Green paused to consider her daughter's words, then shook her resplendent head. "I'll never understand kids' humor these days... My apologies, Mayor, tell me again what the trouble is?"

X

With her back against the door, Molly took a deep breath. Surprisingly, the appearance of a strange creature had shocked her less than she expected.

She slid listlessly to the floor, dropping her knapsack with a heavy thump. Yes. Much less than she had thought. Sure, she had always fantasized about an excuse to disinherit the company, but she never thought it would come as some... supernatural visitation. She used to imagine a handsome prince on a white horse, crashing through her window and whisking her away from the expectations of her family and responsibilities of the empire.

Then she grew older and gave up the white horse... then the crashing through her window... then the prince... until she abandoned the idea of running away and living her own life altogether.

Yet, it happened. A little orange-clad thing with pointy ears and a cap, nudging her to wake up as she dozed in math class, and recounting the dire straits of his beloved homeland.

In fact, she could almost hear him now.

_Tap, tap, tap._

Molly glanced at the paneled window. Then she looked away and shut her eyes.

_Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptap._

Molly sighed again. She was aware that this was a bit absurd. A sprite asking her for help? He _did_ seem to know what he was talking about. And he genuinely seemed to be... a forest creature of some sort... although it was true that no one else could see or hear him, even when he was practically wailing and rolling about in the classroom. Was she imagining him? Did she eat something bad? Was she in the hospital right now, hallucinating, or in a coma, dreaming? She pinched herself, shook her head, but still the tapping and still the thing's muffled shouts.

Was it a prank? But how could anyone fake that size and that flying and those magical sparkles? Needless to say, she knew it would not do herself any good to speak to it. Her friends, had they known her situation, would tell her not to be so nice to stalkers, human or sprite, real or not. That was her weakness, they would say: Molly Green, rich as a princess, but such a pushover.

But all that surmising was beside another point. If, and that was a big IF, the sprite indeed had a crisis in its hands, what in the world could _she_ possibly have to offer? Surely there were people better suited to the task. Adventurous people. More involved people. People with supernatural experience. Not young city girls whose lives were scheduled ahead of them.

_...Tap...tap...tap?_

Molly sighed a third time that day. "It's official. I am crazy." She made her languid way to the bedroom's tall windows and gently pushed them open. "Can I help you?"

"Finally! Molly-"

"Wait, it really bothers me that you know my name and I don't know yours. So before anything else, would you tell me that at least."

The harvest creature stared at her for a minute before replying. "My name's Finn." He stopped abruptly, as if trying to contain himself from saying more.

"All right, Finn... What did you need me to do again?"

This released a flood of words from the little creature. "The Harvest Tree is dying! And if the Harvest Tree is dying that means the Harvest Goddess is too! We can't let that happen, so you need to come with me so that we can help her restore her powers!"

"Uhh..." Molly made a conscious effort not to look too confused. "And where is this tree and this goddess?"

Finn had his answer ready. "It's in an island called Castanet. We can get there by tomorrow if we leave now."

"Listen, Finn," she began, "I can't go."

Finn stared at her. "Yes you can."

"No," Molly tapped the windowsill with an impatient finger, "I can't because, as I've said before, I've got-"

At that moment her door swung open suddenly. In panic, Molly grabbed the fairy, who protested loudly, and stuffed him under the window-seat cushions. She sat.

"Hello Mother."

"Molly dear," Lady Green said, bewildered, "Were you speaking?"

"Oh, just talking to myself. What's up?"

Lady Green looked rather worried. "Do you know Castanet Island? It's a small county down west. They produce crops and fish, but it's such a remote little place I doubt you've heard of it."

Ding.

"Um, yes. Funnily enough, I have."

Finn squirmed beneath the cushion, his small voice muffled.

"Oh," Lady Green was surprised. "Well, that simplifies things a bit."

"Why? Is something wrong?" Molly shifted her weight so she wouldn't crush Finn, who she realized had stopped squirming and might now be dead.

"You see, I just received a call from their mayor saying that the place has been having problems with... well, everything." Lady Green paused. Molly noticed her mother was distracted, her elegant brows furrowed. Molly prompted her to continue. "Does it have anything to do with the company?"

Lady Green looked up. "Oh yes, yes. I don't think we've ever told you but," she sat down beside Molly, who desperately tried to inconspicuously reposition Finn from one butt cheek to another, "Mayor Hamilton," Lady Green began, "is an old friend of your father's. He used come visit on your birthdays, remember?" Molly shook her head. "Anyway, he helped us out when we were just starting. He and your father went to the same business school together, but Hamil fell in love with Castanet as soon as they graduated and has been living there ever since." Lady Green took a breath, "The mayor is going to withdraw from our partnership contract because of these... problems..."

Finn was squirming again. Molly relaxed. "It's not the contract you're worried about, is it?"

"No, it's their 'problems.' I can't fathom what sort of trouble their area is having and it worries me! The truth is," Lady Green turned to Molly confidingly. Pride was sparkling in her eyes as she regarded her daughter, and Molly could almost feel, at the back of her mind, the pull of stars and the throbbing song of choir angels. "The truth is, your father and I have been talking, and we feel that it's about time you test out everything you've learned about being a rancher."

Molly blinked. "Huh?" She blinked again, the information sinking in. It eclipsed the natural question which was, What does that have to do with Mayor Hamilton and their trouble? Instead she blurted out, "You mean... like, field work?"

Lady Green nodded. She was smiling now. "At Castanet, there is an open farmland for sale. It's a complete set - house, coop, barn, and field. We've been intending for you to go live there as soon as you graduated high school to get some practice with actual farming. You know, so you'll have some experience once you inherit the company."

Molly was dumbfounded. Lady Green continued excitedly. "Oh we've had it planned out for months now! You'll live there alone, of course, because it's fewer distractions and you'll be forced to act solely on your wits, but Mayor Hamilton will keep watch over you where we can't. Isn't it thrilling? You'll finally get to experience the wonders of the countryside. Castanet's a beautiful place, the fresh air and clean rivers-" Lady Green noticed her daughter was just staring. "Molly, dear? Oh my, did I say too much too early?"

Molly swallowed, but let out gladly, "N-no. I just really... was not expecting it. I thought I was only going to learn how to fix papers and attend meetings... I didn't think I would actually..."

"Nonsense." Lady Green laughingly kissed her daughter's furrowed forehead. "Your father and I want you to know what _we_ went through; how it all started. You can't be a respectable leader if you're leading something you don't know about. It will be good. This experience will shape you the way it has shaped us." She gently tucked a strand of Molly's chestnut hair behind her ear. "And you do like gardening... and animals... don't you?"

The Green family's heiress was floating in a dream. Molly clasped her mother's hand reassuringly and nodded. "Yes. I do."

Lady Green smiled. "I'm glad. Well!" She intoned lightly, getting up. "This conversation has made me realize how silly I was being. Whatever problems they have on Castanet shouldn't change the plans. Problems are, after all, part of the trials of being a rancher. And with you there, and the obvious natural talent you possess, I'm sure you'll be able to figure out what's wrong and help them. Or, at the very least, let us know what the company can do... yes, very good. Let's continue this when your father gets home. In the meantime, I believe supper is ready."

"Oh, uh, I think I'll stay here for a bit and mull over everything you just tossed at me. If that's okay."

"Of course, dear, of course." Lady Green laughed. She paused at the doorway, grinning at her befuddled spawn. "Don't worry about it too much. You still have some weeks before graduation."

"I'll try not to."

Lady Green smiled at her daughter, then left.

Finn popped out wheezing from the cushions. "Puuahhhhh! I nearly suffocated down there!"

"Be glad your island's savior doesn't weigh two hundred pounds. Or you really would've suffocated," Molly said distractedly. Her eyes were still glazed from the news.

Finn was unimpressed. "You didn't have to hide me, you know. I can't be seen by non-chosen humans."

Molly blinked. "Oops." She smiled sweetly, hands clasped together in apology. "Sorry, Finn. I forgot."

"Hmph! And what'd I keep telling you? We had it all covered. You _can_ go!"

"Yes. Lucky for you Mayor Hamilton was friends with my father. Otherwise- wait..." she turned to the small sprite slowly. "They _were_ friends, right Finn?"

"Behold," Finn announced dryly, moving his arms like a magician, "the powers of nature."

"That doesn't make any sense. It's not natural at all. You didn't tamper with their memories, did you? Because if you did..." Molly advanced on the small fairy darkly.

"No, no, no! We did no such thing! Pshh." Finn crossed his arms haughtily, a bit offended and hurt at her suggestion. "Shows just how little you understand of us, Human. Us Children of the Earth are bound to the earth, and the earth is bound to people. So to speak, it's kind of a master-servant relationship. We are your servants. We help you and you need us. But we need you too. We sort of cooperate, but us Natural Beings are less... _privileged_ as you humans are. Not that we'd ever want that. Humans make everything so much more complicated. Wars and violence and hatred and greed and- but anyway. Can't change people. Can't mess with memories. Nope."

Molly didn't try to hide her confusion. "Then how did you set this up?" The burning question in her heart revealed itself. "Why... _me_?"

"Because, Molly Green," Finn's tiny arms touched her face; his eyes held hers steadily, "you were born with the right kind of power. You're the one we need... so please." Finn's voice shook. He swallowed. "Please help the Goddess."

Molly searched his face. There really was a true dilemma. Here was a creature asking for her help, something that apparently only she could give. Molly took his tiny hands between thumb and finger and responded as steadily as his gaze, but with a force of determination that was perhaps present in her all along.

The pushover indeed. Or maybe it is better called kindness?

"Okay, Finn." She promised the small creature. "I'll give it my best shot."

X

X

X

"A new rancher, huh? Good luck to whoever she is. Worst time and place to try a for a new living if you ask me. Poor kid doesn't know the kind of misery she's in for."

"Cut her some slack, Craig." Hayden refilled the sour man's mug with gin. "I doubt she's coming in without knowing the goings-on."

"Mmm," Craig sullenly agreed, contemplating his alcohol as he spun the froth. "Yeah. Lately it seems _everyone_ knows about the goings-on."

Hayden sighed. He knew exactly what Craig meant. The bartender looked thoughtfully over the farmer's shoulder to the familiar interior of his Brass Bar: old wooden tables, unused piano, shelves lined with glass that once sparkled with cocktail and merriness now dull with dust.

Craig was right. People knew Castanet was drying up. Ever since the wind stopped blowing and the water stopped flowing, ships stopped their coming and customers, their blessed patronage.

"I know..." Hayden mumbled. Very soon he might have to close down the place. Nobody liked talking about it. Business failure was knocking on the doors, and each and every citizen of Harmonica Town could hear it. "I don't know what I'll do. Kathy's grown up here her whole life. This is... this is home." Hayden rubbed his forehead absently. "I don't know what I'll do."

"Worse comes to worst, move." Craig made a far away motion with his hand. "Easier for you, at least." He sipped his mug and winced at the strong liquid. It was the cheapest, bitterest available, but any kind of alcohol was good if only to ward off stress. "They got bars in the city, don't they? It's farms they don't got. It's land that's hard to come by. And when I say land, I mean _good_ land. Not this barren, powder-dry, crop-choking _waste_."

"True... True, that. Any new prospects? Anissa find anything?" Hayden filled up his own mug.

"Frankly, I don't know. Her letters stopped coming with the ships. No way to deliver 'em. Only word I have is she got to Ruth's ma safely."

"At least you got wind of that much. I'd be worried sick if my daughter were away... No ships. No mail. No ale for cocktails and food. This town's really going under, isn't it?"

"That rancher's in for a big surprise," Craig sang, taking another swig and wincing again. "Ruth's been shakin' her head over the news. Innit ironic our daughter leaves to find us a better place while another man's daughter comes to try and wrestle with what's left? It's brutal, I tell you... How's the kid gonna get here anyway?"

"Cain's picking her up from the docks up east."

Craig was surprised. "He's still doing business there?"

"Somewhat, I heard. You'd know better than I would."

"We haven't spoken in a while. Too busy. Been running around like headless chickens trying to figure out what's wrong. Is it the soil? The water? Is it the damned weather?"

A figure appeared at the bar's doorway. "This again?" Jake entered, coat collar up and gray hair more tousled than usual. "I thought we were over the whole venting affair."

"Jake! Just in time for another round!" Hayden filled a new mug and slid it down to the innkeeper, who took the stool next to Craig.

"Great that you made it, considering you live across the street." Craig lifted his mug in acknowledgement.

Jake was taking off his coat. "Yeah. But these drinking nights you guys plan only depress me."

"Part of its charm; getting depressed together is what comrades do, eh?"

"Cheers!" The three men clinked their mugs.

Jake took a deep swig. The conversation moved on to how he was doing.

"Oh, you know, checkbook's been blank for weeks now. Colleen and my mother can't keep up the menu because the fire's been bad. To top it off, no one complains because - and Hayden here can tell you one boring story after another of the same vein - No. One. Comes..." He tapped the table to emphasize each word.

"Our sympathies, Jake." Hayden nodded at him. Craig pat his shoulder wordlessly.

"Yeah, thanks..." He raised his mug to them. "My sympathies to you too. Oh, have you heard of the new rancher?"

It was a girl, they said, refilling each others' mugs, barely out of high school. It wasn't uncommon to find one so young out on their own in those days, but a shared feeling of disappointment seemed to pervade the atmosphere. That poor kid. What was the mayor thinking, agreeing to let her stay? Was it the extra money? Nah. The mayor wouldn't so much as hurt a fly, let alone take advantage of a blue-bottomed kid. They had invited him to come that night, actually, but Hamilton declined saying he had work to do explaining the delay in debt payments to the State. That sombered everyone.

"Anyone know when Ramsey and Dale'll get here?" Jake asked to turn the subject around. The three of them were slightly drunk now.

The bartender checked his wall clock. "The night's young. Only ten thirty. You gotta understand; they're coming all the way from the mines."

"Hey. I came all the way from the fields."

"Oh, but it's not like you haven't got time in your hands. Nothing much you can do in the fields, is there?" Bitter laughter from all of them. "There's news going round that the only thing emptier than the Mayor's safe is Craig's shipping bin." More bitter laughter.

Craig smiled at the joke and took a deep swig. "You're all sons-of-guns."

Two figures appeared at the doorway.

"Ahh! Speak of the devils! Ramseyyy! Daaaale!" Hayden, Jake, and Craig exclaimed their welcome.

"Well, well! Aren't the young 'uns enjoying themselves." The old blacksmith entered, boots clonking on the wooden boards.

Dale entered alongside the man, his boots clonking on the wooden boards just as heavily. "Haven't heard this much ruckus since the drought."

"Roaring like animals, you were." Ramsey took off his coat and tossed it onto a nearby chair.

"Aww, c'mon, don't go pretendin' seniority. All calamities are welcome here. So long's you hold your drink, we're kindred spirits." Hayden passed them full frothing mugs. Ramsey grabbed it as he took a stool, and dunked half in one go.

"Ohh, look at him go."

"That's a hangover waitin' in the morning."

"We're all hangovers waiting in the morning."

"Hayden, you sure you got enough for this son-of-a-gun?"

The old blacksmith winced, and laughed. "This is awful." He looked at the company. "This what you upstarts been toleratin' the past hour?"

"All we can afford, friend. Seconds?" Hayden refilled the smith's mug.

"Let me show you," Ramsey said, running his eyes to each of their faces, "just how much seniority I've got over you lightweights."

"Ohoho! Bring it on, old man!" Dale took a seat.

Jake laughed. Craig and Hayden jeered at the "spicy old fart." The five men hoorayed with much jostling and shouting, already buzzed. They lifted their mugs and clinked them messily. "To seniority!"

"To Craig's empty shipping bin!"

"To the new rancher!"

A great silence ensued while all were engaged in drinking. Then, after they sighed and whistled and exclaimed, Ramsey commented. "Ahh, yes, tell me about that..."

As the men continued indoors, outside the air was cool and slightly wet. The vast dome of spring sky was an inky black. Wisps of dark cloud stretched thinly across a near-invisible moon. Pricks of baleful, yellow light dotted the contour of the docks. The sea heaved slowly, breathed weakly, as a strawberry-blonde cook leaned against the metal rails and observed the horizon.

Chase had been standing there for - he didn't know how long. His shift had a whole three hours before it was over, but he knew, and his boss knew, and his guests knew, as did everyone in Harmonica, that there really was no point. No customers in the previous night. Fewer than none the night before that. Except, of course, the occasional visit of a disgruntled villager, who was considered family, and they were more like guests using the bar as an extension of home than paying customers. They partied then like they partied now.

Why should that night, or any of the nights forthwith be any different?

Chase found he had stopped caring. A feeling of melancholy was coming back, not unlike the kind the men inside were trying to forget.

Maybe, he thought, he should go join them.

"You know your shift's not over." Kathy said quietly, taking a spot beside him and leaning against the rails.

"Neither's yours."

Kathy glanced at him. Chase did not move from his position in the slightest. "Not that it really matters." Kathy continued a little cheerfully. "They're having a lot of fun in there without us. Dad's really good at turning bad things on its head. He did this during that awful summer too. Remember, the drought? Everyone came in the night and tried to forget..." She giggled a bit. "But then they all had horrible hangovers in the morning... I swear, I've worked at a bar all my life, and I still couldn't get used to smelly drunk men, wandering the streets, asking why I don't take my blouse off it's so hot."

No response. Kathy cleared her throat. She fixed her eyes at the horizon. At length, she asked seriously, "Ships aren't gonna come through anymore, are they?"

Chase didn't really want to answer. His coworker normally talked with rhetorical questions or answered them herself. Though it seemed she wanted a response from him for this one.

"If they did, we wouldn't be out here."

"No. I suppose not." Kathy paused. "What are you going to do, Chase, if the Bar closes down? I don't know what we'd do... Dad keep saying thing'sll get better but I don't think-" she shook her blonde head exasperatedly. "I mean, look! Nature's whacked! _I_ think the ocean is refusing to carry boats across and _you_ think the fire's too weak! Who's ever heard of that kind of thing happen?" She gripped the rails shakily. "If nature itself is against us, then... then..."

The cook was still looking boredly at the sea. Waves crashed. Kathy's statement only finished in her mind. She did not dare say her fears out loud because that would've given it a more tangible presence when its shadow was remarkable enough.

Then the young chef wordlessly put a hand on her shoulder. Their eyes met. Chase's violet eyes held her blue fear-filled ones with what looked like a bland acceptance of the world. Then the young chef made his way back inside.

Kathy felt the gesture more gloom-inducing than comforting. But she felt he had a point: there was no use worrying about their current crisis if they were indeed being pitted against nature; the best they could do was pray.

Kathy stared at the disappeared horizon. Then, realizing that the sea was indistinct to the inky black sky, walked quickly away from its empty sound and absolute darkness into the comfort of her father's bar.

X

The sun shone cheerily upon the eastern docks. A few ships floated their great hulls against the walkway. Sailors unloaded crates and carts, passing them along until they built up like piles of rusted Lego. Gulls cried overhead, looking for scraps.

A young girl waited at a lamp post, watching men carry, joke around, boisterously mock-fight, play cards, and shoo the seagulls that tried to snap at their fish sandwiches. Women and men passed, some pulling disinterested children along, some dragging carts full of vegetables or fruit or chickens, some haggling and coaxing and shouting and pointing. All this under the wind and the heat and the sound of sucking ocean. The journey took only a few hours. Now that the young girl had arrived, she was overwhelmed by the sheer humanity of such a small, rural island.

So this was Castanet.

"Molly, was it?"

"Sir!" Molly jumped at the muscular man that suddenly appeared at her shoulder.

He laughed. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." He was jaunty for a man in his forties and had a friendly face. "I'm Cain, your ride to Harmonica. I assume you've been told?" Cain held out a hand and the apprentice shook it immediately.

"Ah, yeah, I've been told. Nice to finally meet you, sir."

"'Sir!' I like that! Good to see politeness still exists these days." Cain adjusted the feed bags on his shoulders and smiled. "Listen Molly, I've still got some business to attend to, so if you'll just follow me make a couple of purchases, we can get on our way."

"Okay."

"Good girl."

The docks were swarming with chattering people. It smelled of sea spray and animals and fish. The sky was a brilliant blue above. Molly tried to keep close to Cain, which wasn't difficult because he was tall and wide as he easily pushed through the crowd to the different stalls.

He stopped at one that had rows of bleating sheep tethered to a large wagon. Cain put the feed bags down and spoke with the stall's owner. Together, the bent over lists on papers.

"What are they doing?" Finn whispered, settling on Molly's right shoulder.

"Probably making deals." Molly observed her guide's serious expression. "Why are you whispering? No one can hear you except me. It wouldn't even matter with all the noise."

"I don't know. Force of habit, I guess." Finn whispered back. "Sprites are naturally timid, you know."

Molly rolled her eyes.

"He doesn't look too happy."

"No," Molly agreed, adjusting her backpack as Cain waved goodbye to the man of the stall. "He doesn't."

They went to a few other stalls; in each one the old rancher made some transaction. Finally, when they were done, Molly heard him sigh heavily.

"All right! All done. Do you wanna get going or do you wanna take a tour around the docks? Let me say that there hasn't been any interesting stuff here these days, so as your guide, I'd recommend we just go. Your choice."

Molly smiled. "Yeah, we can just go."

"Ugh, great! Glad you agree. My shoulder was starting to feel numb anyway."

"I thought the stalls were interesting."

"If you liked the stalls here, wait till you see Flute Fields on the Animal Festival. Sheep, cows, horses, you name it, all on the open grass ready to be petted, which is always the best part."

The sky became less obscured by trees and rooftops as both veteran rancher and understudy tramped their way along a dusty road to the outskirts of dock town. As far as Molly could see, the road speared ahead to an endless green.

"How are we gonna get to Harmonica, sir?"

"My trusty wagon and my honorable mare, Lightning."

They stopped by a cart with a white horse. Molly had seen and ridden many horses before; nevertheless, her excitement when faced with a new animal was seldom diminished.

"Haha! Yes, you can pet her." Cain then, grunting, began to load the wagon, as Molly scratched the back of Lightning's ear.

"Actually," the rancher said after tossing in the last sack and dusting his hands off, "that's my daughter's honorable mare. Otherwise I would have named her something more friendly... like Betsy, or Clara."

"Your daughter has good taste. Lightning's a cool name." The apprentice grinned, giving the mare a final pat and clambering onto the back of the wagon among the sacks.

"Think so?" Cain mounted the seat at the wagon's front. "You two will get along great, then. She's about your age."

With a whinny from Lightning and a few bumps, the wagon got going.

"Does she work at the ranch with you?" Molly settled atop the pile so to see down the road. It stretched far, far ahead, she observed, up and down hills, with sheer green spreading out from both sides.

"Yes she does. In fact, she does a better job than I do. But maybe you can teach her a few things. Starting your own ranch takes guts, kid. I salute you."

"Oh, well I'm not really starting it all on my own," Molly said stiffly. "I mean, I probably wouldn't have done it if my parents didn't decide for me. They used to be ranchers. I'm following in their footsteps."

"Mm," Cain began thoughtfully. "But do _you_ like farming? It'd be a shame if you were doing it just to please your parents."

"I do!" Molly replied quickly. "I do like it... I mean, I've raised my own garden at home and taken care of a few animals, and it was fun..." The truth was she'd held her first gardening shovel when she was five and had taken care of her own seven-floor greenhouse ever since.

There was a long silence. Cain said nothing, but he was listening.

"Yeah..." Molly finished rather lamely.

"That's good!" he said encouragingly. "So you've had some experience before. If you ever need any help, you can come visit our ranch. My wife and I will be glad to lend a hand."

Molly released her breath. She didn't know how long her body was tensed. Now she relaxed a bit. Finn looked at her for a moment, then zoomed into the sky to see how far they had left before arriving.

"Thank you," Molly told the rancher sincerely.

The heiress, who felt quite out-of-place until now, was restored to her original confidence. She sat back, resting herself comfortably against the sacks, and put her arms behind her head as she let her boot-clad legs dangle over the shortening road.

* * *

><p>Next chapter is Kasey. Yuuki and Hikari are better names, but I'll use the the English version for consistency's sake.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2: Hero Complex

Chapter 2: Hero Complex

* * *

><p><em>A boy wandered through the forest; a grimy shirt hung loose over his skinny but toned limbs; tousled hair stuck against his neck and forehead; he felt tired and hungry, but none of this stopped him from trudging deeper into the forest.<em>

_Green boughs closed over the darkening sky. _

_Shivering, he slumped against a gnarled tree and cried._

_But the wind was not cold, and the roots were not uncomfortable; crickets chirped; the forest, although dark, was not threatening._

_In soft solemnity, the forest seemed to speak to him._

It's all right... it's all right... hush, my love...

_The boy looked up. Starlight showed glistening spots in the canopy above. Leaves rustled. He felt himself embraced in warmth, a sensation long forgotten since his mother's death. He breathed in the pine scent, the smell of the earth and the trees._

No more tears... you are safe... I have found you... You are safe.

_Hesitating, he whispered. "Mommy?"_

_The wind blew, rustling the green leaves overhead._

In a way, my sweet... don't you want to go home?

_"No!" he said vehemently, shakily. "No... I'm not going back. I wanna stay here."_

...But my love... the forest is no place for a child, even for one so brave. Everyone is worried... Can you hear them? They are searching for you...

_"I don't care. I don't want to go home." The boy put his head in his arms. "I don't want to go home. Dad-" his tears renewed, "-D-dad doesn't want me. He doesn't want me."_

_The wind renewed its strength; trees rustled loudly and they bent, creaking, in its power._

Oh, but you must... I am sorry that things turned out this way... you're father does care. He too is worried, as are the other villagers...

_The wind softened and grew gentler._

I promise I will do my best to help, if I can. But whenever things become too difficult to bear, promise me that you will seek help from them.

_He felt himself lifted up. The spots of light above disappeared. He could no longer see as the forest's canopy thickened and shut out the stars. But the boy noticed lights in the distance flashing between the tree trunks far from where he stood._

_"There he is." A group of people appeared, led by a tall boy whose hair was as white as moonlight._

_The little boy felt himself suddenly embraced, petted, and rocked back and forth. Some people were crying. Some gasped. Some sighed in relief. They spoke over him, asking worriedly if he was okay. One of them checked for bruises, and finding some, argued with her husband about letting him stay at their house for the night._

_The boy was carried out of the forest into the clearness of the Fields. He was tired, and the presence of so many people made his head spin. He felt like a feverish child again being clucked over by relatives. The wind, the forest, and its promise, slowly dimmed out of memory..._

X

"Shhh! Chloe, stop giggling! He'll wake up!"

"I can't help it! It's-it's- just t-too funny! Puahihihi-"

"Hold it steady. On the count of three, okay? ...One. Two. _Three_!"

_SPLASH!_

"AAAGH!" Kasey yelled as the two kids dumped freezing water on his face. It soaked through his pillow, his futon, and clothing. "Get back here you little punks!"

But it was too late. The two children squealed and ran away laughing, their hurried steps down the stairs fading quickly.

Kasey flopped back onto his soaked pillow. "Ugh. God. What are they doing here?" he groaned. It wasn't a holiday. The Flower Festival was two weeks from now. He craned his neck to check the clock - seven AM - and flopped back onto the pillow again.

It wasn't his dad's birthday... it wasn't his birthday. So it was someone's birthday back home.

Yeah. That must be it.

Kasey got up, dripping and heavy with water. Growling distastefully, he pulled off his soaked shirt over his head and made his clumsy way downstairs, flipping through a slideshow of old neighbors in his mind, trying to guess, because he couldn't really remember without a calendar, which one of them was the lucky victim of a surprise party this time.

The brunette thumped down to the bottom step, pivoting deftly on his heel through the kitchen's open arch.

"Oh good. You're up." A stout, old woman looked over her shoulder to see the bedraggled young farmer. She was standing before the stove as the heavenly smell of cooking vegetables, rice, sauce, and miso soup wafted through the room. Hot water was boiling in the corner.

She blew a strand of silvery-pink hair off her forehead and turned back to cooking. The young farmer could've sworn he heard her stifle a guffaw. "I'm glad to see you're looking very well, Kasey."

"Good to see you too, Yolanda." He regarded her suspiciously. "That wasn't sarcasm, was it?"

Laughter burst forth from his left, where the kitchen table was. Seated before glasses of milk were the two children - a boy with goggles, his short, blonde hair spiked out like a starfish, and an apple-cheeked girl with a peach-colored ponytail. They were cradling their bellies and roaring in glee.

Kasey was unimpressed; he figured he had drawings on his face.

Just then, a handsome young man with a dyed layer-cut appeared at the kitchen-garden door from outside. He thumped into the room in platform boots and carried a basket of strawberries. "Yolanda, I found these beautifully succulent ones we can make some strawberry milk with-"

Julius noticed the topless Kasey. Unlike the master chef, the fashionista did not bother with tact, especially not with an old friend. He guffawed outright. "Bad makeup day?"

"Only you would have those, Julius." Kasey glared. "I just hope they didn't use anything permanent." Kasey tried to remove the embarrassing vandalism with the back of his hand.

Julius tsked. "Chloe and Taylor! Such naughty children! Is that any way to treat our host, whose face we haven't seen in the past half-year?" He put the basket down decidedly on the counter. "No strawberry milk for you."

"Aww! But we wanted today to be special!" Chloe whined. "And it's _really_ funny. Even you laughed, Juli!"

"Hmm, I must say it _is_ pretty well-drawn." Julius walked over to where the farmer stood. "Funny. I think your face looks better this way, Kasey."

"Haha. Keep laughing, Julius," Kasey said dryly. "Drawing on your face might do it some good too."

"Me and Chloe were gonna rig the stairs, but we didn't get to it. So we settled for the ol' draw-n-dunk, just like old times." Taylor grinned.

"Yeah, old times I wouldn't miss." Kasey grinned back, headlocked the two children one in each arm, alternating between knuckling Taylor's head to Chloe's. They squirmed loudly under his grip. "Now, tell me again why you're all here?" he turned to Julius. "If you'd sent me a letter I might've prepared for the punks' morning wakeup call. And maybe even got you guys some breakfast." He was finished knuckling them, but didn't let go.

"Eeehheeew! Kasey, you're still wet!" Chloe whined under his armpit.

"Now why do you think that is?" he asked happily.

"You know, if you'd just gone home like you used to, you could pay us back properly," Taylor said, wincing under his other armpit.

"Hey, I-" Kasey hesitated. He had personal reasons for not coming home. Somehow the innocent statement made him unsure what to say.

"Taylor, didn't you know?" Julius examined his manicured nails. "Kasey left because your sister rejected him."

Kasey's head snapped. "What? _No_!"

"Oh it was _tragic_!" Julius said dramatically. "The sting of unrequited love grew like thorns in Kasey's tender bosom!"

"Tender _what? ..._Julius's just being psychotic, Taylor. Don't believe a word he says."

"Really?" Taylor looked interested. "'Cause I can get her to go out with you that means you'll come back."

Kasey thought for a second. "You can?"

"Yeah sure." Taylor shrugged under his armpit. "I'd rather have you as a brother than her as a sister anyway."

Julius sniggered. "Don't get his hopes up, honey. Anissa's too good for him."

"All right, enough of your silliness, children." The master cook referred to them collectively, putting her hands on her hips. "Be nice to Kasey; remember, he's letting us use his kitchen to make breakfast. Chloe, Taylor, set the table please. Kasey, you might want to clean up and get a shirt on. Julius, if it's strawberry milk you want, we'd better start. If not, put the strawberries in the fridge and we'll do them later."

Yolanda bustled them off to their chores before they could say any more.

"Don't destroy anything," the farmer advised at the doorway. He accepted with a mental shrug the fact that they let themselves in his house and used his things as though they had always lived there. They probably entered, as usual, through the kitchen-garden door he left unlocked for his night cat of a father. At any rate, Kasey appreciated their occasional arrivals more than the man's regular nightly ones, and their readiness to prepare breakfast was more than his single parent could ever be bothered to posses.

"My bed and sheets better be hung dry by noon!" Kasey was already out of the kitchen. He thumped his way upstairs. "And my strawberries better not be trampled when I water them!"

"Yeah, yeah!" were the threesome's distracted response. Yolanda sighed tiredly.

Kasey didn't realize how much he missed his neighbors until now.

X

The afternoon rolled around. Chores were quickly finished because the new visitors helped. Master chef, jeweler, and farmer sat around the kitchen table, leaning heavily against their chairs. Tea lay fresh and steaming on the placemat. Yolanda was sipping her cup. Julius had one leg on a stool and was distractedly braiding a lock of his colored hair. Kasey was watching Chloe and Taylor chase each other in the garden as they warred with the water guns he lent them. The doors and windows were thrown open. Spring day hung clean and scented in the sky.

"So much energy, even after all that work." Kasey disbelievingly watched the kids do a barrel roll and get up again. "They got a lot bigger since last time."

"Sign of health. It's a good thing." Yolanda complacently sipped her tea. "At that age, kids shoot up like bean sprouts. I remember when you and Julius were that young. One day, you'd be on each other's shoulders, trying to get into the mayor's house to steal poor Gill's diary, and the next you'd be jumping rooftops all on your own to spy on the women's hot springs."

"We tried stealing Gill's diary?"

"Wasn't my idea." Julius continued to braid. "You and Luke thought it'd be funny, until you walked in on the mayor's morning shower."

"Ohhh... no wonder I couldn't remember."

The jeweler glanced at the farmer. "You repressed the bad memory?"

"No." Kasey said, eyes glazed. "I think we blacked out."

"How awful." Julius chuckled. "Well, at least the women's springs were a more successful endeavor."

"No, they weren't, 'cause someone switched the women and men signs and-"

"The mayor was there too, wasn't he?"

Over Kasey's sour expression and Julius' roaring laughter, Yolanda asked, "So how _is_ your father?"

"He's good." Kasey rocked his chair back and sighed. "Happy drunk bastard. Doesn't come home sometimes, but as long as police aren't knocking I know he's fine. Sorry he couldn't say hi."

"That's fine. I don't think he likes us much anyway... Well, then. I suppose it's time we told you why _we're_ here." She put her cup down.

"Finally! All this secrecy's been killing me. I've been asking what the occasion was since this morning and you never answer." He smiled and leaned on his elbows interestedly while tipping the chair beneath him on its front legs. "Another surprise party, right? It's Hayden's birthday isn't it?"

There was a long, definite pause, as the cook tried to make herself sound matter-of-fact. "Don't start, now. You haven't heard any news so it may come as a shock. And don't be upset. What happened... wasn't anyone's fault." Another definite pause. The hairs on Kasey's neck prickled. He realized he was more anxious now than interested.

"Mira's husband-" the old lady cleared her throat. Her words came out strained. "-had a heart attack last Monday."

Kasey stopped rocking. Yolanda stared at her cup. Julius dropped his braid and looked at the ceiling.

"He was rushed to the clinic in the night, after Julius found him nearly unconscious on the floor of their office. Irene gave him some medicine when he arrived out-of-breath, but for the most part, better. Then Mira and Dale set about arranging for a boat to take him mainland where they could get him better treatment. He was fine for a few hours, but it happened again and... he didn't recover the second time."

A still silence. Yolanda continued. "The funeral will be held this Sunday. Julius here promised Mira he would get you to come. I'm just tagging along to get supplies for the service. As for the kids, they really wanted to see you, so we brought them with us."

Kasey was leaning against the table, frozen. Birds chirped outside. Chloe and Taylor could still be heard playing.

Julius remained facing the ceiling. "It wasn't anyone's fault," the jeweler said quietly, contemplatively, repeating Yolanda's words as though he doubted its truth. "Apparently the man's family has a history of heart disease. It happens. It's just..." Julius' eyes grew blank. He affected indifference, but spoke hoarsely. "We couldn't find a boat to take him mainland. There hasn't been any for months. His heart gave up because he wasn't taking his medication, which he was supposed to do regularly... he ran out since they stopped delivering them."

Kasey was dumbfounded. "Why weren't they getting delivered?"

The jeweler dropped both feet to the floor and gripped his knees tightly. "You haven't heard, Kasey?"

"Heard what, Julius?" Kasey felt annoyance bubbling to the surface. Yolanda sipped her tea.

"That things-" Julius stood up, "-have been absolutely _terrible_! Everything's been terrible! The soil, the fires, the wind, even the ocean's been stingy with its fish! Most boats stopped coming because the lighthouse is out, the rest don't come because they know Harmonica's dying! Which means no delivery. Ramsey can't smelt, Yolanda can't cook, Dale and Barbara are running out of business. Mira - the poor woman - is all alone! I swear to you she cries to sleep every night and tries to hide it with her pretty smile every morning!" He nearly shrieked the next part. "The beauty of the world is fading! How can you possibly not be affected?"

"I haven't noticed anything!" Kasey nearly shrieked too. "I live twelve hours away, remember?"

Julius flopped back onto the flower-patterned seat, looking exhausted. "How nice for you," he breathed bitterly.

Kasey shook his head to calm down. He heaved a breath. The premise of this entire problem was absurd. Things were fine where he lived. Flamboyant as Julius was on the surface though, the jeweler rarely had real passion fits like the farmer did. "When- when'd it start?"

"I don't know. Probably your last visit."

"Dammit, Julius! And no one bothered to tell me?"

"You live twelve hours away, remember?" Julius boredly examined the braid he had made.

Kasey fell silent, his head in his hands.

At length, the jeweler spoke.

"You're coming for the funeral," he stated flatly.

"'Course I am."

"You're giving us free crops for the wake."

"Sure."

"You're staying at my place."

"Yeah- wait, why?"

"Because _your_ place," he annunciated clearly, "is crap."

Kasey wrinkled his nose. "When did you start caring?"

"I don't. You don't have a choice."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

Julius sighed and began to study his nails. "The mayor- ugh. Long story. Basically he sold your house."

Kasey stared. Blinked. Stared again. "...What?"

X

X

X

"Granpa. Granpa, wake up."

Ramsey weakly lifted one eyelid to look blurrily into his apprentice's gray eyes. Then he rolled over in the sofa so that his back was turned. The nephew heard him slur into the cushions, "Am I not dead yet?"

Owen firmly took the blacksmith's arm and pulled it over his shoulder. "Sorry, Gramps. Sprightly old codgers like you don't die that easily. Up we go." He hefted the old smithy off the sofa and glanced at the carpenter across the bar. "How's it going at your end, Luke?"

"He's totally zonked," Luke replied, pulling a loudly snoring Dale's arm over his shoulder in the same fashion. "Pheeuw! Smells too. They might've overdone it this time," he commented amusedly.

"Nah. They've been worse, trust me." Owen laughed.

"Oh." Kathy appeared at the doorway to the private rooms, eyes surprised by the early visitors.

"Morning Kathy." The brawny redhead smiled at the bar girl, who flushed.

Luke addressed her with a jaunty salute. "We were just collecting our parents."

"Yeah. Thanks for taking care of 'em. Looks like they had a hell of a night." Ramsey burped into his ear; Owen quickly adjusted his burden so that its face was several inches farther away.

"Pop will be in a better mood now he's let out some steam. Although the hangover's gonna be a killer, huh Owen?"

"Give 'em a day. Once the worst of the headache's gone, they'll be cheerful in no time."

"See ya, Kathy!"

"Y-yeah. See you." She waved after them as they exited the bar out into the morning sunshine.

The barmaid ran a hand through her hair as she scanned the state of the Brass Bar. Glass mugs were toppled on the countertop, pools of pungent ale decorated the place in translucent yellow, chairs stood or lay astray from their tables.

Under regular circumstances, Kathy would have scolded her father for letting things get this out-of-hand. As an experienced waitress, she knew when to make people leave or discourage them from drinking any more, but she did not intervene when it came to close friends.

Kathy sighed and dropped her arms listlessly. "I have to clean up three, smelly, unconscious men, too." She looked in disdain at the slumping, sprawling, open-mouthed figures of Craig, Jake and her father, on the floor, on a chair, and on the counter, respectively. "Owen just _had_ to come in and see this mess. Ah well." She shrugged. "Wake up time."

Kathy hummed as she skipped to the kitchen and filled three buckets of ice-cold water.

X

X

X

"Here we are!"

Molly craned her neck to see. "Wow! Are those your fields? The tulips look... um... good!" Their colors were slightly faded, and they seemed a little stout.

"Not mine. Craig's. That's Marimba Farm. If you ever need help with crops, it's him you go to. He and his wife Ruth run the place. They've got a daughter around your age too, only she's overseas at the moment."

That's what Molly loved most about Cain. He was so informative. "How come?"

Cain looked troubled. "Er, the mayor tell you about the problems we've been having lately?"

"Oh," Molly murmured, understanding. That explained the tulips. "My mom told me."

"Well, Anissa went off to search for better farmland, or at least an answer as to why their crops've been failing. It's a sad business, really. They've lived here all their lives; things have gotten so bad they might actually be forced to move."

Molly fell silent. Then, "What about you, sir?"

"Me?" the rancher scratched his chin. "We're not doing half so bad. In terms of production I mean. But business failure at one end affects the whole thing, you know? Like- how should I explain without scaring you on your first day?" He chuckled.

Molly smiled. "Oh, I think I can handle it."

"Tough one are we? Good. You'll need to be. Now lemme see..." He thought for a moment; the clatter of Lightning's hooves and the roll of the cart wheels filled the air. "Our ranch sells animal products, right? "Bad land ain't that big an issue for us because our production, that is, our chickens and cows, isn't affected. Not by much anyway. But when people like Craig don't get enough business done, they don't have any money to buy our products. Our production may be fine, but our sales, not so much. Get it?"

"Yeah; and it doesn't help when ships stop coming either," Molly added, remembering her business lessons with her father. "When you can't export, you lose a lot of customers."

"That's right. And Castanet's big on exports. Well, used to be." His eyes drifted off to that morning's memory. "Because we haven't been selling well, we didn't have any money to maintain our current livestock. So I had to cut the deals I'd made with the sellers at the docks. If I can't fulfill my end of the contract, then-" he shook his head.

Molly sat back, quiet. There was a certain detachment when her mother explained the situation. All Molly could think about at the time was getting away from the mansion and living on her own, despite being a false independence. And helping Finn, of course, but she didn't think reviving a tree was such a big deal. Hearing the same problems from a primary source made Molly feel more involved, somehow. She was no longer a bystander. She _shared_ Cain's troubles.

"Ah, I'm sorry. I guess all that whining scared you huh?" Cain scratched his head. "Don't worry, kid. You've got your parents' Green company to back you up if things get outta hand."

Molly's head shot up. She laughed nervously and instinctively twirled a lock of her curly hair. "Uh, could you please not mention that to anyone?"

Cain wrinkled his forehead. "That your parents own Green?"

"Sorry..."

Cain laughed. "For what? It's all right." He grinned at her. "From what you said about your family before, I think I understand."

Molly sighed. "It's just- I really wanna try this out for myself..."

Cain nodded. "I hear ya. Don't worry. My lips are sealed... Oh, there's our gate, Molly. Welcome to Horn Ranch!" From the other side, a pretty, young brunette appeared. She ran toward them. "And that," Cain said, waving to the girl, "is my daughter."

X

X

X

Kasey was packing his trunk. Julius was helping him.

"You know, I don't think scattering cookie crumbs all over my bed is defined as helping."

"It's called intellectual support, Kasey." Julius popped another cookie into his mouth. He was lying comfortably on the bed. "_I_ say which of your sloppy, bland, bachelor wardrobe is remotely worth bringing, while _you _obediently pack it. Incidentally we make a very efficient team."

"Please don't dust your hands over my sheets? They just got dried. And I wanna spend my last night here without water dunks _or_ ants."

Julius popped another cookie. "Didn't think a farmer would be afraid of ants."

"_You_ would be," Kasey smiled, "if I happened to scatter Yolanda's cookies on the couch you're sleeping in tonight."

Julius paused. "Fair enough... Oh, good lord, what hideous object are you packing in now?"

"What? It's the jacket I always wear."

"You- you wear _that_? On a regular basis? But it's got holes and stains and stitches coming loose!"

"Well, it is kinda old, I'll give it that. But see? Still works."

"No. Absolutely not. Good god, take it off. _Now_. Oh, you poor, deprived child. No wonder girls don't come to visit you. I wouldn't be surprised if people turned and hurried off at your approach. C'mon. We're going shopping." The fashionista hopped off the bed, dusting his hands and scattering more cookie crumbs on the floor.

"W-what? Look, just because the rest of the world doesn't share your sense of fashion-"

"Oh Kasey, Kasey," the jeweler shook his head condescendingly, "It's not even about fashion anymore. I'm afraid you've reached so low a point you can't even _hope_ to comprehend the word. Don't you _want_ to look decent for your six month reunion? Never mind. Don't even answer that. We'll burn your - your _thing _- later. Let's go." He gripped a protesting Kasey by the shirt collar and dragged him out the room.

X

An hour later at the largest local boutique Julius could find...

"Yes! I am _so_ good at this! Much, _much_ better."

"Really Julius? Red?" Kasey raised an eyebrow, then sighed, irritated. "I don't know why this is so necessa-"

"-Hushshshh!" Julius stopped the farmer from taking it off, then looked at him squarely in the eyes with the intensity of a thousand burning suns. "Red," the jeweler said slowly, "is the color of love. Of passion. Of the sheer, primal human will that drives our very souls."

"So this," the farmer tugged its unzipped front tiredly, "is to let women know I'm in heat?"

"_This_," the jeweler pronounced, expertly adjusting the collar, "is infinitely more preferable to those loosely stitched rags you call your 'work clothes.' Honestly, when was the last time you switched jackets, hm? Never mind. I don't wanna know." He gave a sweet smile at the cashier, who blushed. "The jacket, please. Go on, Kase. Make me proud."

The farmer morosely took out a few bills from his wallet.

X

After three hours of looking, sifting, yelling, shoving into changing booths, and charming smiles at the cashiers for discounts, the two boys began their pleasant stroll homeward. There was much complaining on Kasey's side, but no matter how smart, how logical, or how imploringly he begged the artisan to not get carried away with what little money the farmer had left, it was to no avail. In the end, Kasey yielded to Julius' goading (as per usual) and wore his new clothes on the way home.

"Will you stop staring at me?" Kasey hissed irritably. This day could not get any worse. "Jeesh. It's creepy enough that you dress like a woman, even more with that I-have-a-schoolgirl-crush-on-you look, heart-eyes and all."

"You _did_ say I shouldn't deny wanting you," Julius replied sweetly.

The farmer rolled his eyes. He distinctly heard that heart at the end. "Sorry, Julius. We've had this discussion before. I don't swing that way."

"Pooh for you then. 'Cause no woman in her right mind would throw themselves at someone whose wardrobe looked like it was scavenged from a landfill... Then again, no man would either."

"There _is_ something called inner beauty you know, which I have plenty of," the farmer sagely announced in an attempt to scavenge his pride; Julius had not been merciful in critiquing his choice of daywear... even _socks_.

"Kasey, darling, only ugly people say that." Julius' voice was saccharine.

"What do you care?" the farmer spun around, harrumphing. "I bought the stupid jacket and all those other clothes, didn't I? Leave me alone."

"Touchy, touchy! I was just kidding." The jeweler chuckled as Kasey fumed. "At any rate, they'll be glad to see you looking so _well_! If you came in that _thing_ they'd probably want to abandon you then and there, only they'd feel too sorry for you to do it."

Kasey grunted.

"In these new clothes, maybe you'll finally entice one of our lovely bachelorettes on a date. Though I doubt they'll forget the snot-nosed kid they once knew. So in the end, you'll only chance the new rancher, who knows nothing about your smelly, cow-riding, manure-cleaning childhood."

Kasey looked wearily to the heavens. "I'm not coming home to go on dates. It's a funeral, not a club..."

"Ah. Why not do both?"

"Because," Kasey knew that Julius knew, but he'd say it anyway, "because... it feels wrong."

Julius shrugged. "Ends and beginnings; they're all the same. But I see what you mean... By the way, what are you going to do about your house?"

"Uh," Kasey breathed, placing his hands behind his head, shopping bags swinging. He'd already given up on it. "Nothing really. It's not like the mayor did anything illegal. I sold him the deed, and now he's sold it to someone else."

"But it _completely_ ruins your plans to go back!"

"Well then, I guess I'm not going back."

Julius paused. "You know we'll miss you."

"Stop it, man. Don't worry. I'll be a half-day away." Kasey thumped Julius' back hard, eliciting an "ow" from the artisan. He continued happily. "Besides, you said so yourself: I'm lucky our new home doesn't have your crappy problems."

"Hey, our crap is your crap," the jeweler responded. Then, more solemnly, "Would you really call your new place home?"

Kasey answered truthfully. "Not even close."

The breeze blew against the two boys, ruffling Julius' long hair and Kasey's longish one. They were strolling on the dirt path to Kasey's farm. The sky was orange, nearing sunset.

"I've been having this dream lately," Kasey began, as they passed under a tree whose leaves rustled with the breeze. "Remember when I got lost in Fugue Forest?"

Julius nodded and stretched. "Yeah, I remember. Your dad angrily tells you to get some wood... because he's the kind of man who would order his seven-year-old son to go alone into the forest to fetch wood."

Kasey just laughed, but the bitterness was there. "He's insane like that."

"Right. And then he forgets all about it and gets worried you're suddenly gone. You really should've just let Hanna take custody of you. Then maybe you wouldn't be so wrong in the head," Julius added jokingly.

Kasey laughed. "I know. You all took care of me well enough, though, ever since you realized-" he broke off. "Which is probably why I'm not that... that psycho."

"You give us too much credit," Julius said, kicking a stone. The break in Kasey's statement did not go unnoticed. "It was your own bravery that saw you through, Kase. And kindness, I should say. If I were you, I'd have left the man long before the first black eye turned black, even if he _was_ my dad."

"No. I'm not giving you too much credit." I'm not giving you enough by _far_, Kasey thought. He suddenly remembered the promise he had made to his mother before she died. It was a promise he had never told anybody.

"Whatever." Julius waved a dismissive hand. "I still think you should never have left us. You being alone with your father all the time can't possibly be healthy."

"What was I supposed to do when he started bothering people? He's a threat to peaceful society. You saw what happened. He nearly-" Kasey broke off again. "Someone's- someone's gotta keep an eye on him. Where it's safe. And I'm the only one he trusts now." Again, the promise held its cold, iron grip in his mind.

Julius could remember the incident quite clearly. They stopped walking. "Yeah, but you don't have to deal with it alone-"

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't. You're just making it harder on yourself-"

"What would you have done, huh Julius? Tell me. Tell me what you'd do if your dad fell completely off his rocker, even if it was only for a couple of seconds." Kasey shook. He dropped the bags. His words spilled out like acid. "It wasn't even the beer's fault anymore! He was _clean_ that time! _I_ know. _I_ know because I made _sure_ he was. And still- and still-" He gripped his hair. His shoulders shuddered in great spasms. Abject terror flared in his gut as the memory of his own father endangering his loved ones flashed in his mind, and utter hopelessness bogged him down, as if he was realizing for the first time, all over again, that his father would never recover, that the incident would undoubtedly repeat itself.

"No..." Kasey murmured, when he had controlled his shaking. "You guys aren't getting involved. Not if I can help it."

Julius was silent. The farmer drew himself up and took a deep breath. The sun had nearly gone down now. It was getting dark, the horizon a rim of pink. Then the farmer smiled bitterly at Julius and looked away.

Julius watched him for a moment, and sighed. "You and your hero complex."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize you idiot. No, no, I'm carrying the bags this time, since the tree's the halfway mark and we decided I'd carry them from that point on."

"No we didn't."

"Now we did... you okay?"

"I'm fine." Kasey ran his hands through his hair. "I'll leave a letter for him tonight, in case he doesn't come back; then and I'll give the sheriff a call just to let them know what's happening. Wouldn't want him causing trouble while I'm gone. He's been a lot better though. So I'm not too afraid."

"That's good."

"Yeah..."

"Still care to tell me about that dream?" Julius asked to change the subject.

"Dream? Oh right. The dream." Kasey stretched his arms and yawned. "It was weird. I dreamed that the forest was talking to me."

"Oh?" The jeweler glanced at him. "What did it say?"

"Uhh... like, it's okay. It was comforting me, since I was lost. It sounded like a she, actually, and I thought it was my mom at first. She said she was my mom. Kind of. Then she told me to go home, but I didn't want to because... you get it... She said she was sorry that things turned out that way..."

The air grew cooler and the sky grew dark. The last of the pink horizon faded. The first stars appeared.

"Then?"

"Then she told me to ask help from you guys if things got too hard."

"She's right."

"I guess."

"And then?"

"And then she made everything dark so that I would see the lights of the search party. It was Wizard, Hanna, Cain, Craig and Ruth that came to get me. Hanna hugged me and everyone was all happy that I was found. I think she picked me up and carried me to the ranch... I feel like I'm forgetting something. But basically that's how it ended."

"That's... not a dream. That's a memory."

"When Hanna came to my rescue, that part's a memory. The dream part is when the forest is talking to me."

"Hmm. And how long did you say you've been having this dream?"

"Couple days, maybe? Recently. Right before you arrived."

"Huh. Maybe it _is_ a memory."

"Even the talking forest part?" Kasey looked skeptical.

"Yeah." Julius shrugged. "You _were_ seven then. Who knows what your childlike brain retained and what it made up."

They reached the porch of the farmer's house. Julius dropped the shopping bags unceremoniously on the step. "Ugh. _Why_ would you make me carry them all this way? Now my arms hurt."

Kasey rolled his eyes, but chuckled. "You're the one that made me buy that much."

"I didn't know they'd be so heavy! Great fashion really is a noble burden to bear, isn't it?"

"Wuss. You are a man, aren't you?"

Julius massaged his biceps and smirked. "More manly than _you'll_ ever be."

Kasey picked up the shopping bags and opened the front door. The faint smell of delicious dinner floated in the air. Light from the inside spilled upon the porch as Kasey pushed a foot in to keep the door from closing.

"Thanks Julius." Kasey murmured without looking at the artisan. He blushed.

It was Julius' turn to roll his eyes. "Get inside already you stupid hero. It's getting cold out here."


	3. Chapter 3: Bears and Bridges

Chapter 3: Bears and Bridges

Some swearing. I couldn't think of an expressive curse that sounded natural...

* * *

><p>"Tea or milk?"<p>

Since Renee was already holding the teapot, Molly said tea.

"Did you have a pleasant journey?"

Molly responded with a yes and a thank you for their arranging to pick her up. Hanna vigorously insisted it was no problem. Molly commented on how nice their ranch was and explained how she saw the horses and sheep eating as Cain drove the wagon by. They thanked her and inquired whether she was excited to start working. Molly answered yes, she was.

They were friendly and hospitable. "More tea?"

Pie was served after a hearty lunch. "Our very own Horn Ranch special!"

They asked about life in the city. Molly asked about life in the country.

On went the small talk until Cain took Molly to see the Mayor.

X

Black curtains draped the stained glass windows of Celesta Church. Kasey, Julius, and the rest of the ceremony's attendees wore black. They shuffled to their pews, and the ripple of murmurs ceased once Mira took her place beside the podium, beside the white carved hinoki coffin. She was simply dressed - black blouse and black skirt - her wavy violet tresses neatly tucked behind her ears. Before now she had stood at the door greeting the relatives and friends who offered their condolences. In view of the congregation, her face was white and her eyes puffy and dark rimmed. Pastor Perry, standing next to her, cleared his throat in the echoing silence, opened his mouth, and spoke.

X

Molly did a double take. "F-five thousand G? But I thought everything's paid for."

The mayor shielded his eyes from the afternoon sun as he scanned her new house's collapsing rooftop. "Your parents paid _half_," he said apologetically. "They hope this will teach you how to manage your own finances."

"I bet," Molly said dizzily, as she stared at the cobwebs on the rafters. "The experience wouldn't be complete without a mortgage."

"That's exactly what they said!" The mayor cheerfully began to search himself. "It must be nice to be so close to your parents you tend to think alike. I have a son myself, but sometimes I feel I can't connect with him. Ah! Here it is." He took out a folded paper from his back pocket and handed it to Molly. "It's a map of Castanet, just in case you get lost. Also, here is your key. Your tools should be in the toolbox inside. Now, then, Molly." He cleared his throat and straightened up in the most mayor-like fashion he could muster. It made him taller, but Molly still beat his height by a whole head. "I wish you the best of luck! On behalf of Castanet, we look forward to seeing what you make of this new experience. I'm sure your parents would be proud."

X

"It's so good to see you again, Kasey." Mira lightly cupped both his cheeks in her hands. "I'm happy you made it."

"All thanks to Julius." Kasey smiled between her thumbs. "He's the one who took the trouble bringing me here."

She chuckled. "That boy. So considerate. He's always worrying. He even went so far as to cook breakfast for me every morning since-" Her voice suddenly hitched. Her eyes suddenly glistened.

"I can imagine!" Kasey exclaimed quickly, seizing her hands in his. "Julius _is_ that kind of guy- taking care of people. He's in touch with his motherly side, I think. I always get scolded when my clothes smell like chickens, or when my house looks like a tornado hit, or when I stay up whole nights on bodigizer; come to think of it, he scolds me a lot anyway." It was working, somewhat. Mira was giggling, albeit with a hint of hysteria. "The guy's such a pain!" Kasey went on anyway; better that she was giggling than upset. "The biggest nag I've ever met! And I can't take him seriously half the time, especially when he's in one of those experimental moods and barges in dressed like an angry peacock on fugue shrooms."

Still giggling, Mira wiped the tears streaming from her smiling eyes. "You have good friends," she hiccupped. "Treasure them."

"I know. I will." Kasey strained out, and had to stop himself from blurting, "Please don't cry!"

"Good," Mira sniffled. "Good."

After goodbyes were made, the guests dispersed into the night-shadowed churchyard. Kasey stood at the front steps, ready to depart, and as he took one last glance at Mira, her head bowed over the coffin, a hand lying delicately atop its white carved surface, he saw Pastor Perry approach her.

Kasey recalled the pastor's words, an iteration of their belief in the land's eminence and of the Harvest Goddess. _From the earth we are made, from the earth we return. All he did is come home. He is still with us. When we plow the land, he is in the soil. When we harvest fruit, he is in the trees. When we see birds fly, feel the sun shine, hear the rain fall, he is in the wind and sky..._

"She'll be fine," a voice drawled. Kasey was suddenly conscious of the artisan's presence. Julius had followed the farmer's gaze to the candlelit pair inside.

"You think so?" Kasey asked. Not that he had any doubt.

"'Of course I do. Tough as a diamond, that woman."

For a moment, they watched her smile tiredly at the pastor, red-cheeked and puffy-eyed. Then the two young men, silent in same thought, turned to leave...

"Yo! _Kasey_! _Julius_!"

...and were waylaid by Luke, Bo, and Owen, who wore black suits now unbuttoned, ties loose beneath their collars.

Artisan and farmer were dragged off to Hayden's bar where they paid their respects to the dead with a clink, a cheer, and a long hearty drink.

There, through the course of the night, they laughed loudly as they boisterously reminisced the good old days when Kasey still lived in their side of Castanet - of their adventures in the mines, the rivers, the forests and hills; when everything was still good and right and they seemed to _own_ _all_.

There, under the lamplights, before mugs of frothing ale, the conversation turned more solemn, and Kasey learned the details of the current goings-on.

Because of their talk, hours after they had embraced goodbye and gone their separate ways, the farmer lay on his couch that night, trying to think about what he could do to help. He thought of Mira - her red cheeks and sad smile - and of her husband - his cold form in the white coffin - and how he died because the roads and routes that once worked had ceased to function, how a single cog in the clockwork of Castanet could affect them so directly.

The farmer feverishly tossed and turned over his pillow in the darkness of Julius' living room. When he could bear it no longer, he cursed loudly, threw off the sheets, planted his feet on the ground and decided, quite fiercely, to fix Castanet, no matter what.

In a few days, Kasey would remember that night and the decision he made with bitter sarcasm.

...But in the same few days time, he would unknowingly stumble upon the very opportunity he had been praying for.

X

X

X

X

"The _inside_ looks fine," Molly remarked breathlessly as she stepped into the room, heavy luggage in tow. She looked around. "Interesting. Kitchen! Dining room! Bedroom!" She announced loudly, pointing to each section, "All out in the open... No bathroom? Oh, there it is. At least _that_ has walls and a door." She turned the tarnished knob and peered inside.

"It's a _lot_ different from your mansion," Finn said slowly as he floated across the space.

"It is." Molly strode to the kitchen and opened the cabinets. "My closet's bigger than this whole house, as far as I can see."

"The one full of sheets and pillows?" Finn furrowed his brows. "No it's not. Close though."

"That's the linen closet. The other one. With all my clothes."

Finn watched a spider crawl across the window. "Don't think I saw that one."

"Yeah you did." Molly opened the drawers. "Remember? The room with the giant turnip plushie you got scared of because 'the size was unnatural!'"

"That was your _closet_? I thought that was the master bedroom, or something."

Molly shut the drawers and played with the stove. "Why would my parents' room have a turnip plushie? And shelves of clothes? Ah. The knob came off."

"I don't know!" Finn said irritably, throwing his black arms up. "Humans and rich people don't always make sense."

"Hmm..."

"I mean, why do you even need a big house in the first place?"

"This is gross."

"It's not like a family of three needs more than- than- _this_ size a house for a happy life."

"There's stuff growing in here."

"You could live in your _closet_ and survive, provided you stock up on food and drill a big hole in the floor for- Hey. Are you listening?"

Molly was looking around the room searchingly, the stove knob in her hand. "Is there a stick we can use to clean this thing? There's no way I'm touching it. Finn, help me."

The sprite watched her dumbly for a moment. "Having fun are you?"

_Knock, knock._

Finn squeaked and flew behind a chair. Molly looked up.

"Um, excuse me," a boy in a red jacket peered politely from behind the door. "Saw all the luggage outside. Need help moving 'em in?"

"Oh! Er- " Molly quickly placed the knob on the counter and made her way to him. "No, it's all right, thank you." She opened the door, he stepped back. "I think I'll manage." He stood taller than her, disheveled brown hair framing his boyish face and dark brown eyes. From the way he stepped back and put his hands in his pockets, Molly could already see he was agile and spry, probably - coupled with the fact he lived here in the countryside - used to physical work. Molly assumed he was a neighbor. She brushed the hair that flew to her eyes. "Are you from the village?"

"Yeah... Well, used to be," he corrected. "Right now I'm just visiting. Name's Kasey." He inclined his head.

"Molly," she inclined hers.

"I heard from Cain when I passed him," he gestured to the path down the farm's front. "So," he said as he slowly looked around, "Starting a new ranch huh?"

Molly smiled brightly and nodded. "Yes. Taking over, actually. I heard that the previous owner left two years ago. Perhaps you knew him."

"I do. _I_ was the previous owner." Her surprise was amusing. "And two years sounds about right."

"I'm sorry," she said finally, "I thought you'd be older."

Kasey laughed. "Sorry for the disappointment. I thought _you'd_ be older too."

"Now we're even on the disappointment," she laughed. "But now I wonder, did you come to see the house?"

"Oh no, I just - I happened to be in the neighborhood and wanted to see who the new person was before going back..." The boy frowned. "...And to warn that person that now's _really_ not the best time to start a farming business. Here especially."

"I know." She replied brightly. Dazzlingly, in fact. Kasey's eyes widened in surprise. "I heard about everything from Cain. Thank you for your concern," she inclined her head. Kasey, startled, automatically did the same. "But this is something I need to do, bad land or no."

"Ah." He rubbed his neck. "I see..." He didn't. He wanted to ask her for an explanation, but that would've been prying. Instead, he cleared his throat. "You sure you don't need help with the luggage? It's no trouble."

"_Say yes_!" Finn suddenly whispered. He had been watching the boy from behind a curtain of Molly's hair. Now the sprite's capped head stuck over her shoulder. He whispered frantically, "_The sooner we get settled, the sooner we get to see the goddess_!"

"No, I'll be fine," Molly said, ignoring Finn. She wanted to unpack by herself, just to let the independence sink in. It took her a good ten minutes before finally convincing Cain she didn't need any help. "I wouldn't want to keep you from any previous engagements you might have..." she said the last part slowly, noticing that the boy's face had turned a curious color as he stared wide-eyed over her shoulder.

Molly gulped. She looked behind her. "Is there something wrong?" She wondered... Could he possibly-?

Kasey took a wobbly step back and pointed shakily. He spoke calmly, but his voice was hoarse. "Is that, like, a new pet or something they only sell in the city?"

Molly stiffened. "I-I don't know what you mean."

"Pointy ears. Orange hat. Talked about a goddess."

Huh. He could hear too. Molly looked at the shocked sprite. Does that mean this boy's "chosen" as well? "Kasey, I'd like you to meet Finn, the Harvest Sprite."

She introduced him so naturally and so formally - as though he was an honored relative - that Kasey followed along. He swallowed and lifted a hand. "'Sup."

X

X

X

"Oweeeeeeeeen! Look at what Simon gave me!" Chloe was running toward the miner.

Owen looked up. He stood his hammer on the ground, tip of handle in one gloved hand as he wiped his brow with the other. "Is that," he yelled to her, squinting, "a whistle?"

Chloe, being both out-of-breath and excited, could not form a coherent sentence when she had finally caught up to him.

Owen laughed. "Deep breaths, Chloe. Now try again."

"IT'S A WHISTLE!"

"Uh-huh. Simon gave you that?"

She nodded her head vigorously, peach hair coming loose from its scrunchy and curling wildly about her face. "IT'S A SPECIAL WHISTLE, OWEN! I'M SCARED TO BLOW IT!"

"It looks like an ordinary whistle to me," he said, taking it from her palm and inspecting it.

"NO, IT'S SPECIAL!" She was stomping both feet excitedly. "I CAN FEEL IT. I BET IT'S GOT SOME SORT OF SPECIAL POWER! MAYBE A PIRATE LEFT IT!"

"Try blowing it. Let's see what happens," Owen said, giving it back amusedly.

Chloe sucked in a deep breath, and blew with all her might.

The whistle sound echoed, ringing piercingly in the river, the forest, the mountain. Birds flew startled from their trees. The air seemed to vibrate. Even Owen stiffened nervously from the sound.

Chloe's face went pink, then purple. Then she stopped.

Silence.

Both apprentices stood still, listening hard and looking slowly around them.

Then, a rustle from the trees... a shuffling... a big, black shape, first hulking forward on earth-quaking stomps, now drawing itself up on its legs... tall... tall... chest out and eyes flashing.

A long, mighty roar.

"Don't move, Chloe!"

"B-but, Owen- "

"It's not looking to hurt us. Best not give it a reason to."

"Owen, it's coming closer."

"I know. Don't move. I'm right here. I'll protect you, Chloe, so don't move."

"Oweeeen, it looks angry."

The bear stared straight at them and roared a second time. Now was probably the time to start running. With a quick movement, Owen grabbed Chloe just as it sprang forward, its big furry forepaws outstretched. Then, securing his cousin under a muscly arm, Owen ran, both of them screaming.

X

"What was that?" Molly, startled, looked up to a flock of birds frightened from her house's patchy rooftop.

Kasey looked up as well. "The carpenters maybe? Sometimes they make little earthquakes when they cut down a big one... with the amount of logging they do, I'm sure birds would hate 'em." Kasey said dryly.

Finn, who was hovering between them, thoughtfully observed the flock disappear above the mine district. "They didn't look frightened. They looked more... excited."

Kasey shrugged. "Maybe the tree fell on Luke."

Molly looked aghast.

"I was just kidding!" the farmer said quickly. "There's no way that would happen, would it? They're professionals. Give 'em a bit of credit. What's more important," he turned pointedly at the tiny fairy, "is why you have a harvest sprite following you around."

Finn gasped. He puffed his chest angrily. "Show some respect, human! I happen to have centuries over _you_ saplings!"

Oh boy. Here we go. "Finn," Molly began gently.

"I'm not '_a_' harvest sprite. The honored name, which my companion has so humbly divulged to your insolent whimpering, and which you would do well to remember- "

"_Finn_," Molly was a little more earnest.

"-thank you, Molly, is Finn! A great and revered spirit tasked with the heavy burden of saving your precious homeland-"

"_Finn!_"

"-Grovel and plead, if only to appease the wrath you have so brazenly incurred!"

Molly had her forehead against the doorframe. She wouldn't be surprised if Kasey turned and left.

Instead, the boy stared with a half-lidded expression at the little thing, reached out his hands, and pinched its cheeks, pulling it this way and that so that its face contorted funnily. Finn yelled and struggled. "If I were you, I'd grow a bit bigger before talking like that. But since you said you're here to save the homeland, please forgive me O great and revered spirit Finn." He let the protesting sprite go and turned to Molly. "Is that really why you're here?"

Finn could barely speak for outrage, but was ignored by both farmers.

"Yes," Molly replied. "I came because he told me about the harvest tree dying. Apparently it's the reason this land's become increasingly untenable."

Kasey blinked. "Untenable?"

"Er... not fit to be occupied."

"But the harvest tree was always just fine!" He looked agitated. "It's been alive for the longest time. Why would it start dying now?"

"Where people are concerned, there's a need to renew nature's power." The way this serious statement was said made both farmers stop short. Finn was scowling as he floated, still rubbing his cheeks.

"What do you mean?" the two farmers said simultaneously. They glanced at each other, then looked at Finn.

The sprite shook his head impatiently. "Look, I'd explain, but it might be better if the Harvest Goddess did it. So as soon as Molly gets settled in, we should go see her."

"Will I really get to meet a goddess?" Molly asked the sprite. "I'm a bit too lowly for that, don't you think? It's not like I even really live here. I thought all I had to do was revive the tree."

"That's exactly what you're supposed to do! As for seeing the Goddess, you can see _me_, can't you? And so can this shmuck." He gestured to Kasey, who was too deep in thought to glare. "I only had instructions to bring you, Molly, but I'm guessing, under the circumstances, I'll have to bring him along as well."

"Thank you," Kasey said to the sprite, who gave a start, surprised by the sudden politeness. "I really appreciate that you're letting me in on all this. Sorry about pinching your face."

"Hmph! You should be. I've never been so insulted in my life." Finn huffed and crossed his tiny arms.

"My humblest apologies O noble spirit." Kasey bowed. Molly detected the sarcasm. Finn, not so much.

"Bow a little lower and maybe I'll _consider_ forgiving you."

Kasey's voice was honey-coated. "O kind and merciful sprite, I was wrong in the extreme! Please forgive this lowly human with your overflowing compassion, so that I may live the remainder of my short life free from the guilt of my accidental wickedness!"

"Oh." The sprite looked satisfactorily down at him. "Oh. Well, put that way, fine. Fine. I forgive you. You're a chosen human, after all." Finn made a long business of fixing his cap. "Ahem! Well! We should start bringing Molly's stuff inside! Let's not waste any more time!" He floated off to where many suitcases were scattered a little beyond the front step.

Molly raised an amused eyebrow. "Great performance."

Kasey put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Prideful guys like that need buttering up once in a while."

They made their way to where Finn was trying to pull a stroller. Molly considered the boy at her side. Groveling didn't bother him if it suited his circumstances. Then again, maybe he was truly thankful and so didn't want to be on bad terms with the sprite.

"You really want to see the goddess, don't you?"

"Anything to help this place," was his answer. It sounded true, Molly decided. Which means he loved his home.

"Why did you leave?" Molly asked, bending down and lifting one end of a trunk. She didn't think much of the question. She was unusually curious, sure, but it was curiosity still within the bounds of propriety and small talk.

"I'll answer that," Kasey said, lifting the other end. "If you tell me what a rich kid like you is doing all the way at Castanet."

Molly had to remind herself not to suddenly drop the trunk. Cain, Hanna, and Renee shouldn't have told anyone she was Green's daughter. She tried to look confused and scoffed. "I look rich to you?"

"Dunno. You give off that air, I suppose." He decided not to mention how he noticed her formal talk and that she moved with a pride and grace no rancher he's ever met had. Even though she had a mild, kindly, athletic look about her, she was too well-off to be _just_ a rancher... She looked clean, neat, well-bred, kind of like those benevolent princesses from one of Irene's fairytale books... Yep, he thought, frowning. Best not to mention any of that; else he'd be accused of being a pervert checking her out.

"If you must know-" she began as they went through the door. Finn was still determinedly trying to pull the stroller outside; it had made a few inches' progress. "-I came because of Finn, and also because I'm from a family of farmers." Which was true. "Expanding the family business is all I'm doing."

"Ah," he said. "What farm?"

They clunked the trunk down in a free corner. Her eye caught the stove knob she had left on the countertop. "Stove Knob Farm," she answered with a conviction that even surprised herself.

"Stove Knob Farm?" Kasey repeated slowly and tried not to guffaw.

"That's right," Molly affirmed, her cheeks burning. What a stupid name! If she wasn't panicking, she might've actually come up with something decent! She drew herself up haughtily. "It's at Waffle Island." Which was where Green really started. "My parents wanted me to take off so we tapped into our savings and bought this one. Oh, go on! Laugh and crow all you like! We've been very successful, I'll have you know."

"I would leave too if my farm was called Stove Knob and the island I lived in, Waffle." He could barely say it for bursts of laughter. He wiped a tear from his eye. "But don't worry. I believe you," he said, not _completely_, but he did.

She looked away. "No reason why you shouldn't." She wouldn't have lied _that_ much, but his show of unbridled glee had annoyed her a little. Molly looked at him unconcernedly from the corner of her eye. "So?"

"So what?"

"What about you?" She shoved the trunk into place. "Did you leave because your farm was called Bagpipe, or something?"

"I left because my dad didn't like it here very much," he said truthfully, pulling himself off the table, which he had been leaning on from laughing.

She tilted her head. "But you obviously care about this place."

"I do," he said, grinning. "_He_ doesn't. So."

And he stopped at that.

Then changed the conversation. "So, you ever been to Castanet before?"

"No," she answered. "I haven't."

They strode through the doorway to the outside and picked up more luggage. Neither bothered Finn, who was still straining with his burden, eyes twisted and face huffing red. The stroller had moved a foot.

Molly didn't press the boy for more when she realized it was a sensitive issue, neither did Kasey press her for her real background (the horribly told lie confirmed she had one, rich or no), which was probably more consequential than that of the average farm girl from Stove Knob. She must've had her reasons.

When all the luggage was brought inside (Finn vehemently refusing help for his stroller, but was reminded by Molly that getting to the Pond was priority), boy, girl, and sprite trekked up the path behind Molly's farm beneath the warm pleasant day, past birds singing in their trees, along the bubbling river ridge, and up the rocky, pebbly slope to the Garmon Mine District.

X

X

X

"So, what's the plan?" A huffing Luke swiftly bent down beside Owen. Both were crouched behind a row of crates.

"I don't know yet," Owen, who was also out of breath, whispered. "Is Chloe safe?"

"Brought her back to Smithy's, like you told me to." Grinning proudly, the carpenter gave the miner a thumbs up.

"Good," Owen sighed in relief. "Thanks, Luke. If you didn't show up in time- "

"-Uh-huh, and if you didn't toss her hard enough- "

"-and if I didn't blow that whistle to distract it- "

"-you and Chloe woulda been the first people in fifteen years to get mauled by the legendary Garmon bear."

"And Gramps woulda had a fit."

Both boys sighed.

"It's no problem, man." Luke clapped Owen understandingly on the back. "We can do this. Just kinda wish Kasey was here, then we could send him off as bait, you could wrestle it from behind, and I could come in and deliver the finishing blow, then it'd be exactly like old times, eh?"

"Yeah. I remember," the redhead said wistfully. "Hey, we didn't _kill_ the bear that time did we? All this has sorta made me realize- " Owen's eyes were wide with dawning truth, "-Luke, we were horrible children."

The blunette wrinkled his nose. "Nah. We didn't kill it that time. Just knocked it out for a bit. And we weren't horrible kids. I think maybe our guardians just chew us out so much we end up thinking we are."

"You got a point there. But still, remember your dad's shed?"

"Yeah. That was pretty bad."

"And the mine cart we piled up with all the ostrich eggs?"

Luke shuddered. "I remember. After that, it was ostrich omelet, every single day."

"Even that bear we lured with honey ended up wrecking town." Owen was somber now.

"You know, maybe we _were_ horrible kids. Now I kinda hope I don't get a son like- hoooh _shit_. Owen, _it's here_!"

"Where? _Dammit_, it found us too soon! We haven't even come up with a plan yet."

"Uh, correction. It found _you_ too soon. What the hell are we gonna do? It's playin' with Barbara's laundry!" He stared for a bit. "Eew. Now _that_, can't possibly be hyge- "

"Quick, how'd we get rid of the first bear?"

"I-I dunno! It was Kasey who planned everything. Oh!" Luke snapped triumphantly. "BAIT!"

"That's right. So here! Take the whistle, get to the bridge, and blow it. Once it starts coming after you, lure it to the edge, then I'll push it over the cliff."

Luke scowled. "Why do _I_ have to lure it to the bridge? The bear's after _you_." He shoved the whistle back into the miner's hands. "You lure it, _I'll_ push it in."

"Luke," Owen began, gesticulating wildly, "I'm bigger! Can you see that thing? It's huge! You can't push it on your own!"

"Yeah I can! All I need is a running start, then- "

"-Look, man, now's _really_ not the time to be reckle- "

_FSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!_

Both boys gargled their yells as an unimpressed Barbara shot them with water from the hose in her hand. "What do you two hooligans think you're doing crouching in my garden, hmm? This better not be another one of your silly shenanigans."

She stopped it.

"Barbara, we just- "

_FSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!_

"I don't wanna hear it! Excuses is all you two ever make." She sighed. "What'll I tell your granpa and daddy this time? I find you suspiciously hiding behind my house..." She went on describing their suspicious activity and detailing their numerous past exploits.

The bear turned its furry head, Simon's heart-patterned boxers hanging on its nose.

"It's- no- use- talking to her," Owen managed to say against the blast. "And the bear's coming this way."

"Well- we'd better- do something-" Luke choked, "before Barbara- discovers," he turned his back against the barrage of water and gasped for breath, "she'll have to burn some of those clothes and it's all our fault."

"Here, take the whistle."

"I don't wanna!"

"_Dammit_, Luke! Fine!" Owen clasped it tightly in his hand. "I'll do it! But you'd better come after me!"

The carpenter grinned. "You can count on it!"

Thus inspired by a ready plan, both boys stood up to face the world, or in their case, a bear with underwear on its snout. They had the poise and air of superheroes, except that they were soaking wet and Barbara was still recounting their faults and showering them with the water hose.

Owen leaped from their hiding place, yelling and waving his arms wildly to get the bear's attention. Its beady eyes followed the burly redhead carefully. Just to keep its interest, Owen put the whistle to his lips, and blew.

That did it.

The bear lurched forward with a happy roar; Simon's underpants drifted to the ground where it was trampled by a heavy paw; the bear watched Owen, who was goading it and was leaping back a few paces at a time; then, the bear sprang forward, swiped its big, furry arm playfully; Owen dodged, scrambled up, ran.

Luke, who had been waiting for the right moment when its attention was occupied, swiftly followed suit in the wake of Owen's yells and the bear's gleeful roars.

X

When Molly and Kasey reached the bridge, they couldn't help but feel a bewildering sense of danger.

It was only when Finn shook his arms frantically, and they heard a roar from the district end, and saw a tall, soaked redhead coming their way, that a sense of alarm rose.

"_Owen!_" Kasey yelled against the sound of the raging waterfall. Molly gasped when she saw the hulking figure of a black bear, its purple tongue lolling as it loped fixedly for the running person.

"DON'T COME NEAR! GET AWAY! WE GOT IT COVERED!"

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Kasey yelled back. He turned to Molly, "Molly, get back across the bridge!"

"He yelled _both_ of us to get back!" she answered.

"JUST GO!" Owen repeated, louder. Kasey grit his teeth and turned to pull Molly away, except that she beat him to it and pulled him instead. His wrist was grabbed, and both farmers scrambled up the path they came and looked back across the cliff. Luke had appeared a few paces behind.

They watched the smith spin to face the bear.

It was like a bad western. Bear drew itself up and flexed its forepaws. It growled, eye and canines glinting in the sunshine. Smith smirked, cracked his neck, and rolled his shoulders nonchalantly, sculpted muscles rippling against the wet fabric. Human and animal eyed each other warily.

The bear lunged. Owen met it head-on.

Kasey slapped his forehead. "Oh god. He's gonna wrestle it."

While Owen was running away from the furry monster two minutes ago, most of him was already decided on the original plan, which was to simply to dodge the lunge and have Luke do the rest. The other part of him entertained a fantasy of wrestling a bear single-handedly, and with one manly heave, tossing it judiciously over the cliff himself. But when apprentice smith saw a cute girl on the bridge, gasping for his safety, he realized he rather preferred her to remember him not as the kind of guy who ran and dodged, but the kind to face his furry adversary with courage and coolness.

Thus did Owen choose to try the fantasy.

Smith locked his hands against its paws. Smith strained his whole body against its astounding weight. For one moment, Owen thought, maybe a fantasy is after all, just a fantasy.

However, Owen was not kind of guy to be put down by that.

With a guttural cry, he strained his muscles further, pushing his legs against the earth, shifting his weight firmly, slowly, carefully, to one side, in order to give Luke the chance he needed. The bear stepped forward. Owen stepped back, his heel reaching the edge, bits of rock falling to the frothing river below. Then, with a swift, sudden movement, Owen let go and rolled away.

The bear staggered forward. Luke ran.

But the bear recovered, spun, its great arm swiping at Luke with the momentum in a powerful arc.

Luke dodged in time but fell awkwardly to the ground. He scrambled up. The bear was after him now.

"LUKE!" Owen and Kasey cried. Molly gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

Luke backed up to the bridge, cradling his shoulder. The bear stepped onto the wood, which creaked and cracked beneath its weight. The bear swiped again, all traces of playfulness gone. It continued its forward lurch.

"The bridge won't hold!" Molly yelled to the carpenter. "Get to this side, quickly!"

Luke heard her and noticed she was right. Inspired by an idea, he waited for another swipe, and when it came, the carpenter bent so that it missed. Then he sprang forward around the bear to get behind it and, with a lot of awkward struggling, stomped frantically on the already cracked boards, completely cracking some in half. He whipped out his pocket knife, and slashed at the ropes.

"Luke, are you crazy?" Kasey yelled. The bridge wobbled. Luke kept slashing, his breathing huffs and puffs. The bear turned. Just as Luke was about to cut the last rope on the left side, he lost his balance and the bear was poised for another swipe. It raised a paw and growled, but was stopped when Kasey threw himself on its back.

"GOGOGO!" he was yelling and screaming as the bear tried to shake him off, angry roars resounding in the air. Molly yelled his name.

Luke slashed. The bridge fell diagonally with a creak and a groan; Luke lunged toward the cliff, and almost fell before Owen caught him by the wrist; the bear slipped, claws grazing the boards and just as it dropped through the air to the water below, Kasey released its neck from his one-hand hold and seized a rope with the other.

A final roar. A mighty splash. A bubbling from the river, the embracing sound of crashing waterfall. The bear was defeated.

Kasey still hung upon the ropes. Then, a groan, a snap. The bridge fell apart completely, bits of board plunking into the river. Kasey, screaming, flung himself desperately up the ropes just as they swung him toward the cliff rock.

"OOOF!" It didn't quite hurt so much as he thought it would. Molly met him at the edge, grinning and with tears in her eyes. She caught both his wrists and hauled him up. She let him rest on his hands and knees, breathing hard.

From across the river, an adrenaline-pumped Luke yelled, "That was SO AWESOME! WHOOOOOOOOOO!" His cackle sounded with the waterfall.

"We were UNBELIEVABLE! Did you see that, Owen? The way Kasey just jumped on it's back like it was nothing? And you! You wrestled a _bear_! A BEAR! _This_, my friends, is the kind of story that'll be sung by our kids and grandkids and their grandkids." He jumped and capered, taking off his bandana and wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Whooo! Damn! _DAMN_!"

Kasey carefully stood up.

"I gotta admit," Owen ruffled his sweaty spiked hair, "that was _pretty_ cool."

"_You_," Kasey mumbled, then yelled, "YOU STUPID _ASSHOLES_!"

They stopped short and looked at him.


	4. Chapter 4: I'll See You Then

Chapter 4: I'll See You Then

"Where are you going, dear?" Ruth leaned casually against the porch fence and watched her husband jolt like a frightened cat.

"The beach," he answered gruffly, adjusting his cap.

"Again? That's not a codename for the bar, is it?" Ruth frowned. "You've been going out an awful lot lately."

Craig heard her tone. For a while now she hadn't hinted any worry, even while she crossed out several big buyers from their register, even when she had watched their fields bear stunted, sickly yellow crops; even when Anissa, their only daughter, barely nineteen, had volunteered to travel hundreds of miles to find better prospects.

That tone was the worried kind she rarely used. Ruth - cool and collected Ruth - never showed her anxiety, such that Craig felt his constant state of distress was his subconscious way of making up for it, ever since they were young. Now that she was anxious, Craig knew he had a responsibility to put her mind at ease.

Breathing a shallow sigh, the old farmer about-faced, stepped onto the porch, and gave his wife a peck on the cheek. "I just need some fresh air, is all. I'll be home by dinner." Then, treating her to an 'I know you understand' look, Craig left, disappearing down the hill slope.

Resigning herself to her husband's cryptic and not very reassuring behavior, Ruth turned to re-man the shop. She opened the front door.

"Hey Mom."

"And where are _you_ going?" The farmer's wife, eyebrows raised, watched as her son hopped off the step.

Taylor stopped, then let out a profound sigh. He returned to his mother, embraced her at her waist since he was only so tall, and answered with the lowest, manliest voice he could muster, "I just need some fresh air from weed pulling, is all. I'll be home by dinner."

Ruth unceremoniously hauled him back into the house. "Nice try, young man. But I'm afraid only your father gets to use the fresh air excuse."

"That's not fair!" Taylor sulked pettily as he was dragged backwards to the kitchen, legs splayed out in front of him. "I'm pulling two people's share of weeds here! Dad and Anissa are taking a break, so why can't I?"

"Your sister's not taking a break," Ruth sighed, exasperated, as though this argument cropped up frequently - which it did.

"We don't know that..." Taylor mumbled.

"If you're _that_ tired of weeds," his mother suggested, "you can help me make dinner instead."

Taylor sullenly considered it. "...Naaah."

"Too late, honey. Fetch your sister's apron," Ruth ordered smilingly as she fastened on her own. "We'll have some mother-son bonding tonight."

X

X

X

It wasn't the adrenaline rush from past danger that had pushed Kasey to yell what he yelled, nor the fact Owen and Luke could have died; nor was it the fact he was forced to risk his life, or that the bridge, which might have very well led to The Solution, was utterly destroyed. Kasey could have stomached any of that with shut eyes and a deep calming breath if he knew the circumstances were unavoidable.

But whenever bad circumstances involved Owen and Luke, chances are they _were_ avoidable.

Danger, death, and destruction he could swallow; what Kasey found so _frustrating_ was seeing the two idiots dance and smirk and happily congratulate themselves when- when- _all this -_ he watched the dismal ropes hang listlessly, he envisioned the havoc most certainly wreaked in the district - when all this _obviously_ outweighed their sloppy achievement of getting rid of its cause - a cause that was probably _their fault_ in the first place.

Fists clenched, Kasey yelled emphatically across the chasm, "WHAT KIND OF STUPID, CRACKED UP, INSANE THING DID YOU DO THIS TIME TO PISS OFF A _BEAR_?" The waterfall seemed to rage with him, the broken pieces of floating wood seemed to sympathize. "WE COULD'VE GOTTEN MAULED TO DEATH! AND NOW THE BRIDGE IS OUT! WE _NEEDED_ THAT! SO DOES THE REST OF TOWN!"

"Hey," Owen stood up and pointed at the farmer across the river, "Don't you start blamin' us for things you dunno shit about, all right? It wasn't our fault the bear started chasin' Chloe around!"

Kasey stood dumbfounded. "..._What?_"

"_Chloe_," Owen didactically yelled across the rocks, "blew _this_ whistle, then a bear jumped out the woods and started chasin' her! You weren't there, but _I_ had to sound it off it so it'd get off her back and chase _me_ instead!"

This was unbelievable. "A whistle? Really?" The farmer's voice couldn't get any drier.

"It's true, Kase!" Luke shouted, retying his bandana on his head. "Owen might do a lot of stupid things, but pissin' off a bear ain't one of 'em!"

"_Huh_... What kind of stupid things, Luke? Stupid like, cutting up the only bridge out of here kind of stupid?"

"No, stupid like wrestling a bear just 'cause some pretty chick shows up kind of stupid." Owen raised his brows. Luke matter-of-factly crossed his arms. "We might've saved the bridge if you just stuck to the plan!"

He didn't really mean it, but there was a vague hostility and defensiveness growing in the air as the reality of what they'd done began to sink in.

Molly heard Kasey sigh.

"Two seconds ago," the redhead slowly advanced on the carpenter, his voice quiet like rumbling thunder, "you were singing my praises. Didn't hear any complaints from you that time. What's with the turnaround, Luke? Finally realized the bridge is in pieces 'cause of you? Or that I actually _handled_ that bear and you couldn't?"

"Oh I can handle bears, all right," The bluenette closed their distance with glowering steps, voice soft as a puma growl, "like I can handle big, fat, muscle-brains. Bears are a _teensy_ bit harder though, but only 'cause they're smarter."

Molly looked expectantly at Kasey. She found him staring morosely at a rip in his jacket, appearing to have very little interest in anything else. Hurriedly, she interrupted the two boys herself.

"Is there any other way to get across?" Molly shouted to the duo, who already had each other grappled by the shirtfront, their free fists clenched.

They answered simultaneously: "Yeah, but you'll have to go around a long way!" "Yeah, but it's really dangerous!" Owen and Luke glared at each other; Molly had to interrupt again.

"I thought you were really brave to face that bear!" They were amazing. She had never seen a fight like that, how - Owen, was it? - confronted its massiveness, and - Luke, she thought his name was - pluckily dodged around while balancing on a half-destroyed bridge. Molly couldn't help but smile. "Thank you for keeping us safe!"

A pink glow of pride spread on their cheeks. And just when it seemed they were flustered enough to forget about brawling, a scream made all four teens jump.

X

X

X

"_GODDAMMIT_!" Craig kicked the sand angrily with his boot. "WHERE? _WHERE IS IT?_" He peered desperately to the far reaches of the strand. The sea heaved beside him, trails of white froth bubbled to nothing on the glittering surf... beautiful and brief, Craig thought, just like his hopes.

He fell dramatically to his knees.

"Where's what, old man?" said an amused voice.

Craig yelled in surprise and backpedaled, eyeing the strapping youth sitting cross-legged on the sand a few paces away. Craig could tell he was trying hard not to smirk. The farmer gripped his pounding heart. "Good god! S-since when've you been sittin' there?"

The youth shrugged, his smirk out completely, perfect teeth gleaming like a prince's. "This whole time. I've watched you go back and forth on several rounds now... You know," he said, getting up and setting a cowboy hat on his head, "that concentration you've got for finding whatever you lost is pretty intense, I can tell; but it's _precisely_ the reason you'll never find it."

Craig had composed himself somewhat; he was still breathing hard. The only two thoughts on his mind were, why is it so hard to be old? and, who is this lunatic?

Handsome Youth shielded his clear blue eyes and gazed thoughtfully toward the horizon. "In order to find what one is searching for, one must look at the big picture, and not just for the thing itself. That way, one does not shun clues that may lead to it. Take yourself, for example: looking single-mindedly for one thing you didn't even notice my presence 'till I spoke. Perhaps I'd come across it, then you would've saved a great deal of trouble if you'd simply asked." Still smirking, he closed his eyes. "Never mind that, though! I've seen your desperation and am inspired. You've caught my interest! I'm willing to- _hey_! Where're you going? Wait up!"

Craig was far away, tossing his head left and right. "It's gotta be here, it's gotta be here, it's gotta be here, it's gotta be- YAH!"

"Did you find it? ...Old man, whether or not the treasure's buried, sticking your head in the sand isn't going to speed up the search."

Craig sat up and spat out a sakura shell. "WOULD YOU QUIT DOING THAT! AND DON'T CALL ME OLD!"

"Hmm, this object you're looking for must be extremely valuable," he surmised, rubbing his chin. "Let me help you!" The young man grasped Craig by the hand and heaved him to his feet.

The old farmer sighed and massaged his forehead. "Look, kid- "

"-Please, call me Calvin." Handsome Youth smiled brilliantly. If any girls had been present, they would see roses unfurl, sparkles shine, light spill like a halo on his head, and they would swoon; fortunately only the sour old farmer had witnessed it. With a tip of his hat, the youth continued, "Archeologist. Castanet Island has always intrigued me. As a native, you must be proud of its rich and colorful history."

Craig gloweringly dusted himself. "Yeah, yeah... All the richness and color's history all right..." He put his hands on his hips, ready to accept the strange archy-whatsit's help. "So, Calvin is it?"

Handsome Youth nodded. "Yes, sir."

Craig tested the name. If he ever wanted to rename a heart attack, he'd know what to call it. 'Ruth,' he imagined, 'I nearly had a calvin yesterday'; it sounded like a good addition to taylor, which he'd use to rename a headache.

"Okay, Calvin, I'm looking for a bell. It's yellow, about this big, and it fell somewhere around here. If you can find it, I'll be forever grateful to... what? What's with that look?" A slight pause. "You know, keep your jaw slacked any longer and flies'll start settlin'- "

"-You're searching for _the_ yellow bell?"

The old farmer scowled. "What're you talking about, boy?"

"The yellow bell!" Archeologist repeated earnestly, spreading his arms, "one of the five that keep this country's nature in balance!"

Craig blinked. He scratched his head. "Oh. So you know about the legend do you?"

X

X

X

"THE BRIDGE! WHAT HAPPENED?" Someone with spiked blonde hair and a white headband had appeared panting. He dropped the axe and wood he was carrying before the sad wreckage and fell to his knees. Tearfully, he looked at the duo across the chasm, eyes wide with terror. "WHAT DID YOU _DO_?"

"It wasn't us!" the carpenter yelled frantically. "I mean, it _was_ us, but it was-"

"-drastic circumstances that called for drastic measures!" the blacksmith tried to finish.

"But- " Bo was so horrified that he didn't notice the two farmers at his left. "_-the bridge is gone!_" Such empty space ruined the rightful order of the universe.

While watched their subsequent chaotic exchange - one side explaining the past events with desperate gesticulation, the other crumpling over like one who bemoaned the gods for saddling him with irresponsible nincompoops - she wondered if the bridge's crash was drowned by the sound of the waterfall, which was why no one had come to check on it.

"It's true." Molly affirmed their story, incomprehensibly told as it was, and made Bo jump from surprise at suddenly finding two more people present. "The bear was chasing him," she explained, "then _he_ lured it away to the bridge, but it couldn't hold its weight so..." She elaborated clearly and truthfully; somehow the story flowing from her lips did not hold either protagonist accountable for any apparent negligence; in fact, the two boys became sort of like "accidental heroes."

When she finished, Bo's horror had faded to a slight awe. He looked at Luke and Owen skeptically. "You _battled_ a bear?" Molly's words.

"Ohh they battled a bear all right." Kasey chipped in for the first time. He sounded _just_ nice enough that his speech wouldn't be called sarcasm, but it was close. "You shoulda seen it, Bo. It was epic." He took a deep breath and announced, "Everyone, this is Molly, the new rancher."

Molly waved awkwardly. "Um, hello." Now didn't seem like the best time for introductions. Kasey went on nonetheless.

"Molly, this is Bo; the guy with the bandana over there is Luke, and that's Owen." As Kasey introduced each one, they gave a signal of acknowledgment. Kasey smacked his palms together. "Great! Now that we all know each other, and seeing as the bridge is out, I think we'd better go." Then, still rather dazed, the farmer touched Molly's arm and started back up the path they came. Molly, slightly perplexed, bowed to them and followed.

Waving without turning, Kasey yelled to the silent three left behind, "Good luck with repairs! Won't be seeing you 'til the festival, so this's goodbye!"

Two weeks was some time. They might as well say their goodbyes now despite the situation. Kasey had managed to strangely deflate its enormity with his dry tone and untimely introduction anyway. It startled everyone so much they simply followed along. Now the bridge's destruction seemed more like an unfortunate occurrence than a catastrophe.

"You'd better come!" Owen called out, "or I'm stealin' your share of the booze!"

"Touch my stuff and you're a dead man!" Kasey called back.

"Safe trip, Kase!" Luke yelled. "I'll pay ya back for savin' my ass! Promise!"

"I'll save your ass anytime for free, Luke."

"Bye Kasey." Bo said simply. With a meaningful look, both Farmer and Carpenter remembered a rant they had about the other two, and how Bo was left to keep them out of trouble by himself ever since Kasey moved.

Kasey inclined his head, not without a hint of apology. "See ya, Bo."

When both farmers had disappeared behind the mountain, Luke sheepishly scratched his head as he, Bo, and Owen stared at the bare space the bridge had once occupied.

"Hey! This ain't all bad!" Luke suddenly exclaimed with forced enthusiasm. "Makes good memories, right? I mean, we totally battled that bear, didn't we?" Nobody answered. Luke cheerfully turned to the expressionless miner. _"_Didn't we, Owen?"

"I don't think Gramps and your dad will care about our good memories, Luke," Owen replied tonelessly.

Another piece of wood plunked into the river. The three boys gazed after it as the current washed it away.

X

X

X

The path to Stove Knob Farm was empty. Grass and a few weedy blossoms clumped round its dusty sides. It was late afternoon, with travel and moving taking up most of the morning. Molly thought she had accomplished so much! And when you added the few thrilling, heart-pounding minutes of bear fight and collapsing bridge, she had no doubt that her first day on Castanet would be one of those unforgettable memories she'd pass on to posterity.

Molly thought these things wonderingly as she looked at the dazed boy by her side.

"Are you sure they'll be all right?" she asked.

"The town's used to it," he replied.

"You also said goodbye. Does that mean you're leaving or- oh" Molly said, touching her forehead. "I forgot you were only visiting."

The boy nodded. "But I'll be back for the Flower Festival. Until then, you'll have to meet with the goddess on your own."

She nodded. "Luke and Owen said something about another path. Maybe I can take that and see her later."

"No, don't take that path!" he said quickly, brown eyes flashing, "And even if someone offers to guide you through it, don't say yes! _Especially_ if that someone's Owen or Luke!"

"Why not?" Molly pondered first on his faith in his friends; considering the bear incident she had just witnessed, she thought she understood. Then she wondered what kind of severe, unused path this 'other route to Garmon' was. The way Kasey was speaking, it was like the road to hell or something. "Is it that dangerous?"

"It's a road to hell."

Molly laughed out loud.

The farm boy scowled. "I wouldn't recommend taking it, all right?" He moved his shoulders uncomfortably. "It's cursed by the Witch. Travelers easily get lost. They say you go crazy from trying to find your way back. No, if you wanna get to the district, use either the mineshaft or the bridge."

"Mineshaft?"

"Never mind. I just remembered that's been out-of-order for ages now." He ruffled his hair, aggravated. "Just wait 'til the bridge is done. Or at least 'til they set up some sort of catwalk, which they'll probably do in the morning. Then you can go see her."

Finn, who had been fluttering above their heads, said thoughtfully, "Hmmm. What do you think about that whistle? Isn't it weird the bear would go after them because they blew it?"

"I don't think that was the whistle's fault," the boy surmised; crudely speaking, he thought their story was a load of crap. "Chloe might've done something to piss off the bear- "

"-And Owen simply got its attention by sounding it," Molly finished for him, sharing his thoughts.

"That's the thing!" Finn flew in front of them. "When I was watching the bear chase after that big human, she wasn't 'pissed,' she was playing! And those birds we saw from the roof were chittering about- "

"-wait a minute," Kasey interrupted, "you can understand animals?"

"Yeah, he understands animals," Molly answered, "He asked a squirrel how far Harmonica was on our way here." She paused. "Hang on, that bear was a _she_?"

"Yes, yes, children, now _focus_! My point is that whistle could be special! Molly, you'd better get ahold of it when you can; it might prove useful."

Molly nodded. "Okay."

"As for you, Kasey..." Finn eyed him thoughtfully.

Kasey looked away, the dazed expression returning to his features. "I can't do much. Sorry. I won't be any use to you from here on out since I live pretty far."

Finn watched him for a moment. Then he made a dismissive gesture and turned away as though he had lost interest. "That's fine. You're _are_ fairly useless at this juncture. We won't need you."

"Finn!" Molly gaped.

"No, it's all right! Really!" Kasey said. "It's true anyway. I'm not needed. With you around, I'm pretty much just extra. Besides, I don't know why I've been kidding myself thinking I can live two places at the same time..."

"Stop it. Both of you, just stop it." Molly turned sternly to the sprite. "First of all, Finn! That was an incredibly rude and insensitive thing to say. Apologize."

"Molly- " Finn began in his most grown-up, explanatory voice.

"_Now_." And was beaten by Molly's more grown-up, commanding tone.

The sprite scowled at the boy, who didn't seem to care. The sprite glanced at Molly, whose arms were crossed; Finn bowed his capped head. This was fair, he knew, but he would only admit it grudgingly. "I, Harvest Sprite Finn, formally apologize for my insensitive speech and beg your pardon, in hopes that any emotional scars I have inflicted heal with godspeed, and that your metaphorical heart be restored to its baby smooth, unbruised health."

Molly then turned to Kasey expectantly.

Kasey realized he had to answer. "Oh, uh, yeah." The sprite had not gotten up from the bow so the farmer cleared his throat. "Er- I, Kasey, formally give you my pardon, and my emotional wounds have healed, and my heart is like a baby... again."

Finn scowled at Molly. "Hmph! Happy now?"

She nodded back cheerfully. Then, darkly, she turned on farmer. "Now, you! What's with all the 'I am useless' talk?" She seemed to get taller. "If it weren't for you, Luke could have been killed! You were brave, you were smart! How does living far away stop you from helping? It's not an 'all or nothing' kind of thing! You act like you _want_ to be here, but you frown and fret and feel sorry for yourself as though you haven't got the choice!"

Her face was inches from his face. He stammered hotly, "T-that's because I _haven't_ got the choice!"

"What, you're dad forbid you to come here 'cause he doesn't like Harmonica? Is that it?"

"Look, it's a lot more complicated than that, all right! There's this whole promise thing, and he's crazy, and the people here are too nice, and- " he shook his head wildly, "-why am I trying to explain myself to you! It doesn't matter what my reasons are! Point is, I _can't_ help. I want to, but I can't, and I'm not gonna bother trying because that'd be stupid! I'm- I'm going home!" With that and an indignant, flustered huff, he stomped off.

"Don't _ever_ say you're useless, 'cause you're not!" Molly called out to his retreating back. "If it weren't for you, I would have taken that path to heeeelll!"

He waved without turning. Molly lost sight of him as his legs, then torso, then head disappeared down the green slope.

For a moment she stood unmoving. Stream bubbled far away, birds chirped in the cypresses, sun cast its warm glow upon distant, rolling hills.

"What?" she said quietly, when she finally noticed Finn had been staring at her.

"I do believe... it's the first time I've seen you angry."

She frowned. "I'm not _angry_. Just... annoyed."

"Mmm," said Finn, unconvinced. "Annoyed, sure. Like, in a really loud sort of way."

X

X

X

'Ruth, I failed you again,' Craig was thinking as he entered the house and took off his cap. "I'm home!"

"Welcome back, dear!" Ruth called from the kitchen, "Ack, Taylor! Careful not to burn the-" the sound of vehement sizzling filled the air. Craig peeked into the kitchen. He could smell the smoke.

"-Well, you did your best," Ruth coughed, covering her mouth with the back of one hand while waving the smoke away with the other.

"Sorry, mom." Taylor grimaced, holding up an unidentifiable piece of... something. In the frying pan, Craig could see a gunky slop composed of more unidentifiable somethings.

"It's fine, dear. Practice makes perfect." The wife looked up to her husband at the doorway and smiled. "Dinner's _mostly_ ready."

X

"Let's eat!" the family said together around the table.

As the old farmer put a charred object in his mouth, Craig distractedly thought about the past two hours he had spent searching for the yellow bell with Calvin. They didn't find it, but Craig felt more relieved now that he had confessed his terrible deed to someone, even if it was to a strange and eager adventurer who nearly gave him heart attacks.

"I chucked it," Old Farmer had told Calvin.

They had taken a break and were watching the sun sink.

"Yeah, I know, I know," he had hissed guiltily after glancing at the boy's expression. "Don't look at me like _you've_ never done anything stupid before. Then again, it'd be okay for a kid. You can chalk it up to immaturity then ask for a second chance..." the sound of crashing wave had filled the pause; Craig had watched its retreat. "...Once you get to my age though, some things are just inexcusable."

Calvin had been silent, wind picking his blonde locks. At length he had to ask. "Why chuck it?"

Craig toed an urchin. "I don't know... I was... _angry_. I thought it wasn't fair. I thought the goddess stopped caring..."

"-with the Flower Festival coming up, and Anissa away at Mother's- "

"...it was all nature's fault. I mean, _I_ always did my work. _I_ always took care of the land. I loved it like any honest farmer would!"

"-we're going to need some extra hands if we're to meet the quota in time, unless of course- "

"So I thought, if the world didn't care, after all I'd done and sacrificed, then why the hell should I? And that's when- " Craig stood up and slammed his palms on the tabletop. "-I CHUCKED IT!"

Taylor and Ruth stared at him. The old farmer's plate clattered.

After a long awkward silence, his wife cleared her throat. "Chucked what, dear?"

"Oh." Craig blinked. "Oh, it's- it's nothing... Ahem. Just... I... Sorry. You were saying?"

"I was suggesting," Ruth said slowly, "that we start the flower harvest earlier this year, since Anissa's away."

"Right. Right. Good idea." Craig stuffed the whole something in his mouth and choked. Taylor slapped his back.

Ruth, with an air of unconcern, continued eating. "But it's such a shame," she said disappointedly. "Flowers are always best when they're fresh."

"Hey," Taylor began while Craig continued coughing, "if we need help harvesting, why don't we ask Kasey?"

X

X

X

Twilight descended upon Horn Ranch staining the stable's roof with shadowy blues. Shafts of pale light filtered through the gables and windows. It threw its solemn glow on a figure standing beside a brown and white horse. The figure was setting on its harness.

Kasey pulled on a strap; then, finding it secure, walked to the horse's head and petted its warm neck, making it nicker quietly. "We're going back, Raizen," Kasey said quietly. The horse twitched its ears. "We're going home." He continued to pet it contemplatively... then, suddenly broke out, "AHHH, I DON'T WANNA GO BACK!"

"Oi!" a stern voice emitted from the gate. "No yelling in the stables! You'll disturb the other horses."

"Ah, Renee." Kasey tilted his head unconcernedly. "As animal-loving as ever, I see."

"Ah, Kasey," she drawled, copying him, "As complainy as ever, I see." The farmer watched her briskly pass the stable door, red cloth in her arms, and march toward him. She shoved the cloth into his chest, "Your jacket's finished. Mom made me stitch it up, so you'd better be grateful."

Kasey held up the garment, inspecting it thoughtfully. "What shoddy work this is. I expected more from you."

"_Grateful_, I said! Be glad I even bothered," she huffed. "And before I forget, here's your packed lunch."

Kasey stared in surprise at the pretty, oval box dropped carelessly into his arms. "I get a packed lunch too?"

"Yes," she sighed. "God knows why Mom would go this far for a stranger... Stitch your clothes, feed you dinner, pack you lunch. Like renting you a stall for free in this economy isn't enough." She checked the harnesses on Raizen's back; Kasey swallowed the urge to tell her he knew perfectly well how to saddle a horse.

Instead he spoke in a low voice. "You still mad?"

"What do you think?" she retorted.

"Renee," he sighed, rolling his eyes, "I can't help being a stranger sometimes. And even then, you know we've got too much history to ever _be_ strangers. Now can we please just say goodbye like normal people, and not get our panties all bunched up over- " his next words were swiftly gulped down under the ranch girl's fearsome look.

She advanced on him. He stepped back, box lunch rocking precariously in his arms. "Six months," she said, her voice very low. "_Six months_, and not a _single_ letter. Not _one_, to let us know how you were doing. Do you realize how worried we've been! Especially with the land getting worse every day, and you being alone with your dad under all that stress! No, be quiet! Yes, I heard from Julius at the service that you didn't have any problems, but do you know how long I spent holding my breath, wringing my hands over you and your stupid farm until then? What happened to those letters we sent you, huh? There were three of them! _Three letters_, and not _one_ reply! Not even a measly line of, 'I'm fine, thanks for asking,' or 'been great, sorry for worryin' ya.'" Her cheeks were red now, she laughed harshly. "Tom can haunt me for this, but I'm so _glad_ I finally, _finally_ get the chance to yell at you for all the white hair you've given me you- YOU _IDIOT_!"

The ranch girl, breathing mightily, looked away. Kasey stood silent. Raizen tranquilly chewed on some hay. Other horses in the stable could be heard moving, stirred awake from their dozing by Renee's outburst. Night prevailed. Darkness deepened as the stable lights stayed off.

"Sorry... about the white hair."

"Pfft."

"You're still gorgeous though."

"Nice try."

"Darn. Help me, then. What do you wanna hear?"

"Why you've been so distant, lately."

"Er, the natural drifting apart of people who don't keep in touch?"

"I'm not talking about the letters... well, that's partly it too... you've been pushing us away," she said.

Kasey tried to sound innocent. "I have?"

"You have," she said firmly. "You used to come on your own until last summer. Then we had to start picking you up."

"Pshh. I got lazy. That's all."

"You got quieter and stopped talking to people. You turned down invitations to Hayden's. You'd go home the next day without-" her voice grew softer, but didn't lose its edge, "without even saying goodbye. Chalk that up to laziness again and I'll poke you with a pitchfork. With the pointy end too, before any of your smartass remarks."

"You know, violence and profanity really don't suit you. What'll your mom say when she hears her sweet daughter talking like that?"

"Ughhhh! _You_!" she spun around to face him. "Here I am worried sick- "

"-I get it." Kasey thrust something to her chest, stopping her short. "I really am sorry for making you worry, Renee. But I'll be fine. So please," he grinned at her, "don't yell so much or you'll disturb the horses." Then he swung himself nimbly onto to Raizen. With a quick tug at the reins, it clopped out of the stall into the cool, starlit evening. "Thanks for the jacket and the lunch!"

"Say goodbye to mom, at least!" Renee shouted, running after him.

"Already did," Kasey answered over his shoulder. "See you at the festival!" Then, a shouted command, a whip of the reins; horse and rider galloped away.

Renee watched after his dwindling figure from the open gate, clutching the papers he had shoved to her chest.

When he was out of sight, Renee sighed. She looked down at the crumpled papers, and unfolded them carefully. Three sheets... letters, in his handwriting.

A pinkcat flower lay upon the center fold, small blossoms seeming to glow under spring eve's starlight.

Renee brushed a tear that slid down her cheek. She sniffed. "...Idiot."

X

X

X

"Molly."

Molly jumped. "Wha- Kasey?"

Kasey deftly hopped off the horse. They were at the beach.

"Good thing I found you. I checked my- your house and no one was home. For a second I was scared you took the path."

"I _did_ actually take your warning seriously," Molly replied as she watched him scrunch through the sand to her side. "I thought you were leaving?"

"In a bit." He looked around. "Where's Finn?"

"He went to check on the Goddess, being the dutiful servant that he is."

"Good. I'd rather he didn't hear this, since it's a bit embarrassing."

Molly eyed him suspiciously. She stepped back. "Is this something _I'd_ want to hear?"

"Based on my knowledge of girls, yes. You ready?"

"I-I'm not so sure-"

"Here it goes..." He took a deep breath. "You're right."

Molly blinked. "Eh?"

"You're right about helping. That it's not an 'all-or-nothing' kind of thing."

Molly just watched him, confused.

He saw her blank expression and tried to elaborate. "See the truth is that for the longest time, I've been thinking of never coming back to this place - hold on!" he interrupted her, since she had opened her mouth to speak, "Yes, I know it sounds stupid, but it's the truth. Lots of things have happened, and I kind of took them as signs telling me to do it. Like, for example, you buying my house - wait, _wait_! - and the bridge falling, as well as lots of other stuff... But then other things have happened too. Like... the death of a friend... all this strange stuff going on with the land... and meeting you and Finn." He swallowed as if this was all very difficult to say. "Look, I don't know why I'm still trying to explain myself, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm coming back. And I'm meeting the Goddess, and that I'm helping Harmonica however I can."

"O-okay."

He grimaced. "Sorry. That was weird, wasn't it?"

"No, no! It's just, there's a lot in what you just said that I didn't understand. But whatever you suddenly realized, it sounds like a good thing." She paused. "It _is_ a good thing, isn't it?"

He fell silent for a moment. "I... think it is," he answered uncertainly.

"Then that's what's important." Molly smiled.

X

Both farmers walked up the beach to the main road, where Kasey mounted his horse.

Molly looked at the creature up and down, wide-eyed. "Uwaaah, he's beautiful!" she exclaimed, petting its neck. "Name?"

"Raizen."

"Bred or bought? Ahah! He's so friendly!"

"Bought him. From Horn Ranch. You've been there, I think."

"Yes. I met Renee. She has a white mare with the same name."

"Haha. Lightning? Yeah, we kinda planned that. They're siblings, you know."

"Oh, really?" she slid her hand down its soft coat. "For how long have you had this one?"

"Mmm, couple years. Raised him since he was a foal."

"Eheh, that's a good boy," Raizen was nuzzling her face. "Never met a horse so comfortable with people. Most of them are too proud. They stick their dignified noses up at us commoners."

"Heh. That's 'cause people like to spoil him," the farmer said, petting Raizen's flank. "He gets so much attention even I get jealous sometimes."

"Oh, don't be," she replied, grinning slyly up at the farmer. "I'm not surprised though. Between you and this handsome fellow, I'd say the horse makes a better companion... Isn't that right, Raizen?" it responded by tugging her hair with its mouth. "Aww. You're much nicer than your silly, frowny master, aren't you?" She'd have to take a shower afterwards, but Molly giggled nonetheless.

"Ouch." Kasey was mock-hurt. "Well that's a surprise."

"Hm? What is?" she without looking; she was still rubbing Raizen's neck.

"First," he counted off a finger, "you yell at me, then after coming _all_ the way back to tell you how you've inspired me, you say you'd pick the horse?" he shook his head sadly in disappointment. "And I here I was thinking you were some kindhearted city princess. I was sorely mistaken."

"E-excuse me," she said, scoffing and pulling away from the Raizen's searching mouth, "First of all, my yelling apparently _caused_ your inspiration-"

"Sure, but yelling at people you hardly know ain't exactly polite, dontcha think?"

Molly blinked. That was true. "Huh... You're right." The farm boy raised his brows as she looked at him, truth dawning in her eyes. "Kasey, maybe I hate you."

He nearly dropped from his horse. "If you have to think about it, then you don't!" He sighed. "I was only kidding anyway." He pulled the reins.

Molly stood back to let him pass. "Well, I should be going now, before it gets too late. Good luck with the new ranch, and with... whatever it is the Goddess needs you to do."

"Leave it to me," she smiled. "Have a safe trip, Kasey."

"Thanks. See you later."

With that, he snapped the reins and galloped away into the night.

Molly watched him disappear around the starlit bend. The truth was, she had been thinking about their argument earlier that day, about his assertion of being unable to live two places at once... They hardly knew each other, he was right, but Molly felt she was beginning to understand something very important about the boy.

A gust of wind blew her hair and her thoughts away with it. Molly shut her eyes and rubbed her arms. It was getting cold. "I guess I should be getting home."

Heh... Home. What a funny word. Would she really call this new house of hers home already? Walking up the slope to her farm, she wondered... two places... one or the other... all or nothing... father or friends? Which is Kasey's home?


	5. Chapter 5: The Red Bell

Chapter 5: The Red Bell

Molly carefully pushed past overgrown grass.

"Hurry! Hurry! This way!" Finn beckoned urgently, wringing his hands and flitting ahead of her.

"Yes, I- _ow_!" the heiress frowned, rubbing the new scratch on her arm. "Finn, I thought this place is sacred. Why does it look as though no one takes care of it?"

"Human worship changes over the years," said the sprite, "This used to be a nice little manmade grove where people sang to the Goddess every morni-" He turned just in time to see Molly shriek and fall spectacularly over a mossy log. "YOUR ANKLE! YOUR ANKLE!" Finn cried, horrified, flying to her. "ARE YOU OKAY, MOLLY?"

"Yes, I'm fine... No, no, it's all right. I can get up." He was trying to pull her by the shirtsleeve, which was more bothersome than helpful. Calming him down took a while too, since he was apologizing unceasingly for rushing her.

In a minute, Molly had emerged from the wall of grass, clothes stained and dirty. In two, she had crossed the stone aisle over the Pond's blue-green surface.

Rancher and sprite arrived at a clearing. Finn floated high. "Molly," he called, smiling sadly, "Meet the Harvest Tree!"

She stopped, looked at the tree, and was immediately hit by a sudden, unexplainable wave of sympathy.

She had never seen its kind before, neither in textbooks nor experience. It had probably been beautiful once - tall, slender, its graceful arms bearing copious greenery and bounteous flowers.

Now it stood a corpse of wood. Bone-white. Naked. Outlined and pale against the canopy's shadows it seemed lifeless.

"Harvest Goddess! Harvest Goddess!" Finn cried; his voice carried through the air and made the stillness thrum. "Please wake up! I brought Molly!"

As though in reply, a sudden gust of wind rushed through the treetops. Molly started. Leaves rustled noisily in the tempestuous air, and all at once it felt like the earth itself had shuddered to wakefulness.

Light concentrated subtly before the rancher, focusing... shimmering... taking form. Shielding her eyes, Molly picked out the glittering contours of a slender body, a long braid, a shawl of rippling sky...

She gaped.

The Harvest Goddess stood tall - divine, resplendent - floating majestically before the dying tree; gold bangles on her wrists and ankles tinkled in the following silence.

The being opened her eyes. A sad smile graced her beautiful face. Molly made a conscious effort to stay steady, or her legs would have buckled from the imposing presence...

...The tree itself may have had no life, but Molly felt this apparition bursting with it.

Slowly, the Harvest Goddess spoke, voice soft and loud, echoing from all around. "Thank you for coming, Molly..." The air seemed to thrum - a low chord played on harp strings. "I am the Harvest Goddess. I am the one who called you here..." The being smiled warmly, and the sun may have very well blessed the earth with radiant morning as Molly's anxiety melted away. Then, with infinite grace, the Harvest Goddess bowed; Molly felt a strange mix of pride and confusion overflow inside. "Thank you for ringing the Red Bell and restoring fire to the land."

"MOLLLYYYYY!" yelled a red thing as it whizzed through the air and splat on the rancher's face, effectively breaking the spell; she tumbled to the ground in a cloud of dust. "You finally came! It's been such a while!"

"A-alan," she gasped, "my foot."

"Oh dear," said the Red Bell Sprite. He grasped her shirtsleeve and pulled. "I completely forgot! Sorry, sorry," it bowed sheepishly, "That didn't hurt did it?"

Molly strained a smile. "N-no. It's okay." She repositioned herself gingerly upon the ground. "Erm, if you don't mind, I'd like to sit for a bit, thanks."

"...My sincerest apologies," thrummed a harp string voice. Molly looked up. The Goddess, who seemed to have taken a more human form - more like flesh than light, but still very beautiful - appeared troubled. "I did not know you were hurt." Molly's could feel her heart pounding as the being approached, bent down beside her, and regarded her ankle seriously. "Was this from the cave?"

"Y-yes," the rancher replied in a daze, then catching herself, "but it's really nothing serious! Just a sprain. And I had it rested for two days now, so..."

"May I see?"

And the young rancher gasped from her touch. In a few moments, the pain was gone just as the Goddess' fingertips left her skin tingling, and Molly found she could flex her foot again. Finn's jaw fell. Alan grinned impishly.

The deity smiled. "It isn't much, but please consider this a token of my gratitude."

X

X

X

Three days previously, when Chloe's silhouette appeared bounding through the cave mouth, Owen had a suspicious feeling it was going to be bad news.

"Something happen?" he queried, halting the mine cart he had been pushing with a clatter. Such bad timing for a new calamity to occur right after that fiasco with the bridge.

"Granpa-" she rasped, grabbing his hand, "Granpa's angry! Come quick!"

X

Smoke. Their house was full of smoke. It dribbled from the door and open windows like a dark, formless monster. From a distance, it looked like a black cloud shrouding one corner of the Garmon District's northern ledge. Scattered on the street were curious, sullen, and excited Garmoners, watching.

Ramsey had his arms crossed. His face was black with soot, giving him the appearance of a ruthless platoon sergeant on a night mission. "Your cousin was playing with a bell," he informed his apprentice when they had arrived; then, jerking his head in the house's direction he stated flatly, "It's stuck in the exhaust."

Owen sucked behind his teeth and put a sympathetic hand on the little girl's head. "Now you've done it, Chloe."

"It's all right." Ramsey sighed as she made a pitiful expression and wailed an I'm sorry. "You two can be a handful sometimes, but accidents do happen." The smithy tapped a pipe on his forearm. "I put the forge out before the smoke got too bad; we'll wait 'til it clears before fixing the chimney."

"Excuse me, I'd like to help too, if that's okay."

Ramsey, Owen, and Chloe turned their heads to the strawberry-brunette who had spoken. She held out a gloved hand. "I'm Molly. I just bought the ranch down by the pond? ...oh, hello Chloe!" she added, smiling at the suddenly exuberant girl, who seemed to have forgotten her previous guilt entirely.

"You're the new rancher?" Ramsey, a little surprised, shook the proffered hand. "Good to finally meet you. I see my niece has beat me to it."

"And your nephew," Owen said, giving a slight bow to the girl.

"Ah. Then you know all about that bear they brought in."

"Gramps-" Owen nervously began.

"And what they did with the bridge."

"-That was Luke, not us."

"I advise that you stay away from these two," Ramsey went on, puffing a smoke. "Unless you want a constant headache and a high blood pressure."

Owen was sheepishly scratching his head and Chloe was studying her toes guiltily. Molly, smiling, met their eyes with an expression that sympathized. She returned to the blacksmith. "Sir, I'd like to have that bell once it's out. Chloe already offered it to me earlier but..." she watched as the smoke curled from everywhere but the shop's exhaust, "I figure that _is_ your chimney."

"You want the _bell_?" Ramsey's forehead wrinkled. "We have a stock of bells we're selling. Of course, I can't sell 'em now what with the state the shop's in, but if you'll come back tomorrow, we'll have one prepared for you cheap... No?" He puffed another smoke. "What do you want with _that_ one?"

"To- well," the rancher tugged a lock of hair timidly, "Honestly, to ring it, sir."

X

X

X

The Goddess looked so otherworldly beautiful that Molly felt relieved the sprites were the complete opposite. If not for Finn and Alan's comic antics and casual chatter, it would've been difficult to meet the her gaze while she delegated the "Task of the Five Bells."

"You have already rung one of these," spoke the Goddess, "the Red Bell of Fire."

"Yes." Molly cleared her hoarse throat. "On my way to see the carpentry, Finn and I saw it get kicked into the chimney. Then Finn told me that it was important - so we immediately set out to retrieve it."

"Good thinking too," Alan shuddered as he hovered by Molly's left shoulder, "That chimney was cramped and smoky and oily... to think all that happened 'cause some kid thought I was some cheap toy no one would miss." The sprite looked gloomy.

"I am certain," the Goddess intoned gently, "she was unaware of the situation, Alan. Though it is a shame they are beginning to forget our legend." Her delicate hands closed. "Molly, I'm afraid the other Bell Sprites have fallen to similar fates... Ever since the people's Faith has declined, my Sight has slowly diminished and I have become too weak to stray from the Tree to oversee them myself..." her eyes were now downcast. "If you had not come in time, who knows what might have happened; who knows if the Red Bell's destruction would finally come to pass, and the Harvest Tree lose its last hope of revival. That is why," she now looked straight at the rancher, cerulean eyes earnest, "we need you, Molly. Please, ring the last four Bells as soon as possible."

The rancher nodded, confident enough to smile slightly. "I've already promised Finn I'd try." It shouldn't take too long, assuming the Bells weren't lost. By the time Molly left to take over Green, Castanet should be bursting with life again.

"...You have my sincerest gratitude, Molly," said the Goddess, as though a great load had been relieved from her divine shoulders. "You've done very well in ringing the first Bell, though you knew little of it then. And you, Finn," she regarded the sprite smilingly, "have also done very well in guiding our young savior. Thank you."

Finn, who was hovering on Molly's right shoulder, blushed. "I-it was nothing, your grace."

The Goddess nodded, then graciously returned to the now-blushing rancher. "I shall answer all your questions before our meeting is ended. But before then, there is one final point we must address."

X

X

X

Once the smoke cleared, Ramsey, Chloe, Molly, Owen, and "the young lady from the General Store," who had also offered to help, began dusting their shop's soot-covered remains. Before long, they were engaged in a series of attempts to expel the obstruction from their chimney.

"Any luck up there?" Ramsey hollered to his pupil and his pupil's friend. They were both on the roof.

"Nope!" Owen hollered back as Phoebe poured more cooking oil into the chimney. "It's as stuck as stuck gets."

"We'll try pushing it out from down here then!" Ramsey yelled decidedly from below.

"Great! You do that!" Owen watched his grandfather return to the shop. Then, referring to the obstruction, he began dryly, "Funny, how it's the _exact_ same shape as the shaft."

"I wouldn't call it 'funny.' 'Unlucky' might be the more accurate," Phoebe strained out, pulling a flat piece of metal shoved into the hole like a crowbar.

"You gotta admit, though," he sighed, "Chloe must've done some really impressive kick to get it this high up. Shame I missed it." He watched the inventor's face gradually turn red and tried not to laugh. "Just - let me know once you feel like lettin' me have a go, yeah?"

"Good luck," Phoebe finally breathed, slapping the bar into his proffered hand. "Though I doubt this will work, even with the oil." She dropped to the shingles with her chin on palm. "Don't push it down. That might choke the chimney even further."

"Yes," the redhead grunted, straining with the lever, "We've established that; no need to repeat ourselves."

"No harm in reminding." There was a metallic clang. She glanced at the apprentice, eyes traveling from his hand to the metal it held.

"It... broke."

A pause.

"...I can see."

"I hope this isn't anything important." Owen felt rather sheepish.

"Don't worry." Phoebe grinned, turning back to the clouds she had been watching. "I would never lend you anything important."

"Hey. If this is another roundabout way of tellin' me I can't be trusted, let me just say first of all that no one was hurt." He pointed the bar accusingly at her indifferent form. "In fact, Luke and I have high-fived several neighbors and been invited to drinks because of it. The best part is, Granpa's blood pressure stayed normal a whole ten minutes before we fetched Mira to calm him down." He flourished the metal like a sword, letting it glint decisively in the sunlight. "...No harm done. Except on the bear, maybe... things weren't so bad this time." Though his face remained impassive during this speech, he sounded as though he doubted himself.

Phoebe watched a feathery-looking cloud with great apathy. "I never said anything."

"Maybe you were thinking it." Owen tossed the snapped bar aside.

"Thy desperate claim to innocence attests to thy guilt," she announced in a sage-like tone, leaning back on her arms. "Though admittedly ten minutes isn't bad, considering this was probably the worst you and Luke have done so far. Maybe Ramsey's finally accepted your destructive tendencies."

"I do _not_ have destructive tendencies," Owen stated, leaning thoughtfully on the chimney's rim.

"Mmm."

"Should I get my sledgehammer?"

Phoebe quirked an eyebrow. "Was that a joke?"

"A failed one." Owen continued to stare thoughtfully at the bulging red object. "Since you didn't laugh. Though frankly, I can't see any other option besides busting this thing open, getting the bell out, then treating Luke to something cheap at Ocarina's for the repairs."

"The sledgehammer," Phoebe said flatly, stretching and deciding to ignore his horrible humor, "won't be necessary. And I doubt Luke would appreciate getting swindled in this economy either."

"Well, what then, Miss Inventor-" Owen straightened with a sigh, looking pointedly at his green-haired friend, "-could we possibly do to get the damnable thing out?"

"Rope." Phoebe pushed up her glasses, determination burning in her blue eyes. "Get rope."

X

Needless to say, it did not work. Phoebe looped it through the bell's hook and pulled, which resulted in absolutely nothing. The bell moved not an inch, even with the oil, Owen's muscle, and the additional strength of several other Garmoners. They formed a little crowd on Ramsey's roof, tugging rhythmically; some almost got elbowed off the ledge, and an argument nearly caused a fight; the roof creaked ominously beneath their feet.

After the thirtieth "heave!" or so, Ramsey, sweating like the rest, finally suggested over the collective sound of labored breathing, "Maybe we can smoke it out. What do you think, Phoebe?"

She stood in front of a panting Molly, a portion of rope in her hands. "It's worth a try," she rasped.

"All righty!" Ramsey hollered, "You all heard the young lady! Off my roof, everyone, before it collapses and I get worse problems than a useless smokestack."

"Do we still get our discounts?"

"Yes, yes, you'll get your discounts. I'll even throw in a free bell," he said, tossing the rope and looking as though the word left a bad aftertaste. "Now _move_!"

X

X

X

Birds chirped distantly in the noontime. Yellow beams from up high lit the Goddess Pond, shining like gold on the water's surface.

A cross-legged Molly failed to notice any of this natural beauty, though, as she absorbed the information she had just received from the deity sitting before her.

"Kasey?" Molly repeated slowly.

"Yes." The Goddess nodded once.

"Y-you want me..." Molly felt her cheeks heat up, "...to convince him to stay?"

"Because he is, like you, a chosen being. That is correct," the Goddess nodded again, and wondered why the rancher was repeating everything she had just said. Was this what humans called "shock"? No, perhaps "bewilderment" was the more accurate term - she made a mental note to thank the Wizard for teaching her these things... though it had been difficult to learn from someone who rarely used such expressions himself.

She watched as Molly's face drew a long blank. "Is there something wrong?"

"Goddess," the rancher swallowed, "if ringing the bells is all we need to do, I think I can manage it by myself. Kasey has his own... um... problems to deal with. He might not stay, even if I... even if I _try_ convincing him." ...To be honest, Molly didn't relish the idea of giving him what could be misconstrued as a pseudo-love-confession either. Then there were the practical issues, like, where he would stay. Molly certainly couldn't take him in. The thought somehow made her feel queasy.

"Ah," the Goddess said, finally understanding the rancher. "But you see, Molly, fate has chosen both of you. You, Kasey, and the land are tied to a special destiny... He will come, and he will stay, but only if you do your part and ask for it."

This was all so cheesy, Molly suppressed a shudder and squirmed instead. "All right. I will... tell him." Perhaps 'fate' would find someone else to take him in.

X

X

X

Their new plan involved gathering materials from the mines. While Ramsey and Chloe went to the Carpentry to buy firewood, the other three made preparations to fetch ore in the shop.

"I don't understand. Won't the smoke go out this way instead of up the chimney?" Molly said confusedly. She couldn't see how running smoke through their clogged exhaust would accomplish anything besides getting their house covered in soot again. Especially when the strength of several people had no effect on budging the bell whatsoever.

"See those?" Owen pointed to the open furnace as he took three hammers off a rack, "the gates can be closed. That'll build up the pressure we need to push it up from down here."

"My. You sure do sound smart sometimes." Phoebe was leaning on the wall, arms crossed.

"Basic knowledge, baby." Owen handed her a hammer. "Thought your standards were higher than that."

"Consider it a compliment... and no thanks." The inventor pushed the handle back. "I think I'll watch this time - I'll lend an extra eye for the ore."

"Suit yourself, then," the redhead shrugged. "What about you, Miss New Rancher? Care to give mining a go? I'll be your very own personal instructor, free of charge too, since you've been nice enough to help us out 'til now."

"Sure," Molly took the hammer. It was hefty, but usable. Owen then knelt to the floor and proceeded to retie his bootstraps. "Wait," the rancher began, looking perplexed, "I still don't understand... I really don't think smoke will create enough pressure to pop the bell out."

"Oh, it will," Owen said, getting up and swinging his own beat-up hammer - which looked much bigger and heavier than the one he had lent her - nonchalantly over his shoulder, "Granpa says he's never tried it before, but the ores we're using's a magic recipe."

"Magic... recipe?" Molly watched as he and Phoebe strolled toward the door. "What kind of magic recipe?"

Owen looked over his shoulder. "Boom."

X

X

X

"Thank you, Goddess." It had already been an hour. Molly stood and bowed. "We'll be leaving then. Finn and I will be sure to update you on the bells as soon as we ring them."

"And I shall look forward to your success." The deity stood too, bangles tinkling, hair ornaments catching some sunlight. "If you have any questions, please come back to this pond. As the Harvest Tree's home, it is also mine."

Then the Harvest Goddess regarded the rancher one last time - cerulean eyes met brown, and Molly felt once again the weight of responsibility and pride settle on her shoulders. The Goddess smiled as radiantly as sunshine, and somehow, it made the rancher feel a renewed sense of purpose. "I wish you luck, young Molly. May the Earth Spirits watch over you."

And with that, she disappeared, leaving only a trail of faint sparkles, which winked away under noontime's yellow beams.

X

X

X

The cave was dark. Torches lit the walls in a sporadic line. Molly suddenly felt conscious of Owen's proximity when he spoke.

"You're holding it right, but swinging it wrong," he said with a hint of amusement.

"There's a right way to swinging it?" the rancher dropped her hammer's head tiredly to the stone floor. She had been going on this way for the past ten minutes now.

"Yep. Here." The miner demonstrated by raising his arms, hammer gripped tightly between his gloved fingers. "You swing it with your shoulders, not your elbows. It'll be hard at first, but once you get used to it and start building up strength, this technique's a lot stronger." He swung it. Molly could not help noting how his shoulders and biceps glistened in the torchlight as they flexed, and sent the hammer down powerfully onto the rocks, which burst like a stack of jenga from the impact. Owen grinned. "See?"

"...You made it look easy." Molly sweatdropped as she stared at the rubble.

"I'd better make it look easy," he stated, resting the hammer onto his sculpted shoulder once more. "Been doin' this all my life. If I was still having trouble, that'd be sad." Owen gestured to the beaten quarry. "Now you try."

Molly, switching to her I-can-do-this mode, willingly obliged - she raised her arms determinedly with a growl, hammer gripped tightly between her gloved fingers - and realized too late that she had raised it too high in her clumsy hold, as she fell backwards, legs pumping comically to regain her lost balance... "Whaaa?"

...when Owen caught her.

Her hammer slipped out of her hands, clattering loudly to the ground behind them; Molly winced.

"Right," the apprentice said, setting the rancher to carefully to her feet. "Lesson two: try not swinging it _too_ high."

Molly could tell he was trying not to chuckle. "You can laugh. Even I thought it was pretty funny, if not a little embarrassing." She stared morosely at the beaten rock, as though it were taunting her for her for her pathetic attempts.

"Hey, this is your first time mining isn't it? Do your best." He handed the fallen hammer to her, smiling.

Just then, Phoebe's voice echoed from the other side of the darkness. "HEEEEY!" Rancher and Smith turned their heads. "Attention all miners and aspiring miners! I think I've found gold!"

X

"Over there, along the wall," the inventor pointed at rocks that looked exactly the same as any other... or at least, to Molly they did. "There're hints of it on the surface, and when I checked with my Ore Finder, it said gold."

Owen was already stooping next to the rock. He raised an eyebrow. "Ore Finder?"

Phoebe adjusted her glasses triumphantly. "My latest invention! See, Molly," she held out the wiry box in front of the rancher, "you put a rock sample in the mouthpiece, then the computer tells us on the screen what kind metals it has." She pointed excitedly at the blinking symbols. "Au means gold; Ag, silver; Fe's iron, Cu's-" she looked at Molly's face and stopped. "Hm?" Then, with intense concentration, Phoebe inspected it closer; Molly pulled away awkwardly. Phoebe finally blinked. "Oh. Owen been hitting on you, has he?"

"W-WHAT?"

"Geez, Owen. You ought to be ashamed," the inventor sighed, regarding the miner's stooped form. "She just got here yesterday! She probably doesn't even know if she likes the place yet! Give her some time to settle at least, before scaring her off."

"N-no! Owen didn't do anything-" Molly yelped to defend him. Or was she defending herself? Molly wasn't sure who she was trying to defend. She just thought his smile was adorable, that's all! How in the world did Phoebe come to _that_ conclusion?

"She's nice," the miner said, still inspecting the rock, "and cute too. 'Course I'd hit on her."

"HUH?"

"Don't worry about him, Molly," Phoebe placed a sympathetic hand on the rancher's shoulder, "Owen might put on a cutesy act, seem excessively suave and manly like any experienced player, but he's really harmless. Please don't let him creep you out."

"I wasn't really... creeped out." Molly was utterly confused now. If she were an anime character, her eyes would be swirls. "He wasn't even-" hitting on me! She couldn't bring herself to say it. _Obviously_ he was teasing when he said he was. But now Phoebe had the wrong idea.

"I don't know if that 'Ore Finder' of yours is any good," the apprentice said thoughtfully, standing up, "but you're right. This one's got gold." He stepped backwards, flipping his hammer to his other hand, "'Scuse me ladies. Just stand back for ooone second," then he raised it and swung - muscles flexing, abs rippling - down in a single earth-quaking smash, obliterating the rock to dust and rubble.

Molly stood stock still in awe. Not in a million years, she thought, could she pound a rock that big to pieces in one go.

Owen and Phoebe picked up the rubble, inspecting them and speaking quietly - something about confirmation, how the Ore Finder had better work, someone called Mira being away, and how a guy called Julius, probably her replacement, can't be trusted with identifying ore since he was terrible at it.

"All righty," Owen announced, finally getting up. "Three left to go. Let's keep searching."

...Molly figured it best, at this point, to simply forget about everything they'd just said; apparently they'd done as much already, in the face of their successful find.

As the three teens walked deeper into the mines, Molly heard Owen say to the green-haired inventor, "Congratulations, Phoebe. First success with your 'lil gadgets in a while."

Phoebe punched his forearm.

X

X

X

Molly and Finn trekked back to the farm, and as they pushed past the overgrown grass once more, their conversation turned to their new goals.

"I'm sure if we told him the Goddess requests it personally, he'll do it," Finn suggested about Kasey staying.

"Maybe..." Molly glanced at the sprite as she pushed a hanging vine aside. "You seem pretty ready to accept him now, Finn."

"Who says I wasn't ready to accept him?" Finn looked confused, as though the idea had not once crossed his mind.

Molly did not meet his eyes, though he hovered near her shoulder. "I thought you didn't like him."

"I don't," Finn huffed, "I think he's just like the other humans of Harmonica - disrespectful, self-serving, and ungrateful to mother nature and all we've done for 'em. Look at Alan! He was probably tossed and kicked all over the place before finally getting stuck in that chimney! Who knows what other atrocities the humans have done to the Bells. It's all so silly!" Finn fumed. "Who do they think _gives_ 'em the resources to make a living anyway?"

Molly fell silent as she scrunched through the grass, watching her feet; then she remembered how the Goddess had healed her ankle. "But Kasey's not like others," she thought aloud. "He can see you, can't he? The Goddess says that means he's got 'a good heart' or something." She felt it necessary to add, "and he _is_ willing to help."

"Kasey," Finn began flatly, "left."

"He's coming back," Molly rebutted, looking at the sprite and stopping. "He hasn't abandoned you. If this is about loyalty to Harmonica, then _I_ should be the one you're disappointed in. _I_ was never in Castanet 'til now."

Both farm girl and sprite had reached the narrow path toward the Garmon District.

Finn sighed. "It's not the same, Molly. You and him are like apples and oranges. This isn't an issue of loyalty to Harmonica... I can't expect you to know about us, but I did expect much _more_ from him. He didn't show me respect for what I was when he should've known the legends, being raised here..."

Legends or no, that's because you were proud and overbearing, Molly thought, sweatdropping.

"...he wasn't even aware that the Harvest Tree was dying!" Finn went on. "I mean, it should've been automatic!" He waved his arms. "Bizarre weakening of the elements? Strange weather? Dying crops? A long time ago, the people of Castanet would've checked the tree and rung the bells first thing!"

"Times change, I suppose..." Humans no longer attributed strange phenomena to sacred trees or goddesses.

"To top it off, he's a chosen human! A _chosen human_, Molly!" Molly thought the sprite's arms were going to pop out from waving. "Him! Prancing around, cuddling bears, acting all cool with his bridge-wrecking buddies, without a whit of history or legend in that disheveled head of his!" Finn heaved a great sigh. "...But lemme make myself clear. I _do_ accept Kasey, and I _do_ trust him, because the Harvest Goddess does. Doesn't mean I like him..."

Molly's lips tugged up in a smile as Finn floated ahead, grumbling, "He'll have to prove his worth before he gains _my_ liking!"

It's enough, Molly thought as she followed.

X

X

X

"And that makes all of them," Owen exclaimed after tossing a chunk of iron ore into a sack. He called excitedly to the two girls lagging behind, "Let's hurry! The chimney's not gonna clear up on its own!"

Molly, feeling butterflies in her stomach, followed Phoebe as they jogged in the darkness. "This is pretty exciting," she said, breathless.

Phoebe smiled. "It is. The explosion should be interesting."

_Do you think it'll work?_ Finn whispered to Molly. _Won't the explosion blow everything to smithereens? Including the bell?_

"No clue." But Molly had already explained the situation to Ramsey, and specifically requested that the Red Bell remain intact. "Owen said this won't destroy the bell-" she even said she would pay for it, despite the careful rationing of her money, "-let's trust they know what they're doing."

"Hm?" Phoebe craned her head. "Sorry, did you say something?"

_Hmm, I trust the smart one with the glasses_, Finn whispered. _The big one, maybe not so much._

"We trust you," Molly told her happily.

Phoebe blinked. "...Okay. Thanks, I guess."

When they had finally caught up to the miner, they saw Chloe with him. She had come into the mines as soon as the preparations at home were complete. Owen had been showing her their find, so once the inventor and rancher had appeared in view, the little girl gave them an exuberant thumbs up. "Molly! Phoebe! Nice work!" she spoke like she was the boss of this entire expedition, "All we gotta do now is-"

Then, the unexpected happened.

The last thing Molly knew was that she had been following Phoebe a few paces behind.

Then, somehow, she was falling.

She stared up at the round light she had come from, at the crumbling rocks at its center falling with her, at Finn and Phoebe's shocked faces, as they got smaller and smaller.

Molly cursed her carelessness. She was warned. _Warned_. Don't step on the cracks, they had told her, because those were pitfalls, where the rock was weak and could easily collapse.

Darn... darn it all... Was this the end? And just when they were going to get the first bell, too. She supposed dying on the second day of moving was a horrible record, but what could she do? What a stupid way to go, falling into a hole...

The light was suddenly blocked by someone's silhouette, and the stones falling alongside her winked out into the blackness...she glimpsed spiky hair...broad shoulders... Great arms circled her waist; she was embraced in its warmth.

_DRUMMMMMM._

Rock crumbled. Dust filled the air. A sharp pain exploded in her ankle.

Then, darkness... darkness all around.

Molly's body was sprawled atop the miner's. Slowly, his arms let go as the rancher pushed herself up painfully, pebbles rolling off her back to the rock-strewn bed they lay in. Molly coughed from the dusty air. Then she saw his face, and gasped.

"OWEN!" His eyes were shut, his mouth parted slightly. Molly's mind raced. What happened? She cupped his cheeks in her hands, slapping them lightly. "Wake up!" Did he- did he jump? Did he take her fall? "Owen, wake up! Please wake up! Oh gosh..." Tears studded her vision. He _did_. He _did_ take her fall. "Please, wake up, Owen!"

A drop fell on his cheek...

His eyelids fluttered from the contact. He shut his mouth, then opened them again, as though to speak. He groaned, moving his arms and shoulders heavily as though they were made of lead. "What a horrible guy I am..." his voice came out quiet, hoarse, his gray eyes opened slowly, "...making a cute girl cry."

Molly lips turned up, teardrops were streaming down her cheeks. "You're okay!"

The miner sat up slowly, carefully; pebbles and dust rolled off his body, as he hazily regarded her and the rocks around them. "Yeah, I'm fine... god," he said wonderingly, rubbing his head, "that was some pitfall."

"OOOIII!" A voice called, echoing along the cavern's vast walls; it came from a faint disc of light as small as a saucer high above them. "YOU TWO OKAY DOWN THERE?"

Molly and Owen looked up at Phoebe and Chloe's distant faces. They were peering down from the circle's edge.

"You all right, Molly?" Owen stood, grasped her hand and heaved her to her feet, on which the rancher hopped comically for a moment, gingerly avoiding stepping on her left foot. Owen frowned. "Oh this is bad-"

"-I'm fine," Molly said thickly. "Just a sprain, I think. Please don't wor-"

"WE'VE GOT A SPRAIN!" Owen called to the two above, still holding on to Molly's elbow. He suddenly turned to her furiously, "Hey, don't go _walking_ on it!"

"I-I'm not!" Molly grimaced at the pain, "Just trying to see if I can still-" she bit her lip as a particularly agonizing pang ran through her foot, "-move on my own," she squeaked rather pitifully.

"You think I'll _let_ you move on your own?" Owen stared at her, incredulous, then circled his arm about her waist once more. "Hang on to me. Chloe!" he suddenly called, "Go get Gramps!" ...He paused. "Actually, on second thought don't-"

"She's way ahead of you," Phoebe yelled, gesturing to the extra head that had suddenly appeared with them. "She left as soon as you said 'sprain.'"

The head was frowning gravely.

"Oh. Hiya, Gramps." That was fast. Maybe he was nearby. Owen tried grinning innocently. Maybe Ramsey would shrug off the situation like he usually did when Chloe smiled in such a way. It never worked with Owen though. He supposed the effect was just too different. "Er, can we have a first aid kit and a splint, please? A light would be great too."

Ramsey sighed as he rubbed his increasingly wrinkled temples. Then, wordlessly, he disappeared. Owen felt surprised. The smile worked? Normally it just aggravated him further but now... his grandfather was taking this so well... the pitfall, the sprain, the having-no-idea-which-level-they-were-on-exactly... then as the miner thought about it some more, he gradually began to feel an eerie sense of danger.

Ramsey returned with the requested items, plus a walking stick, which he dropped into the hole and which Owen caught. Owen turned to the rancher, "Okay Molly, I'm used to this kinda thing so-"

"-I got it." She grabbed the kit and the splint from Owen's hands and sat down.

"Er-" the miner began uncertainly as she threw the lid open and furiously took out its contents, "Wouldn't it be better if I-"

Molly stolidly refused his help and bound her sprained ankle herself. The work was clumsily done - a little loose in places - but it was good enough. By the looks of it, Molly had never applied first aid to a sprain before, and Owen had to tell her what to do anyway. Then, when all such work was finished, and Molly had the ice and her leg raised as she sat, and Phoebe, Chloe, and Ramsey began lowering rope down to them, she surprised everyone by her resolute announcement:

"Thank you, everyone. But the sprain's not too bad, and I'd like to go deeper into the mines." She shifted uncomfortably as everyone stared at her like she was insane. "...I know I've caused enough trouble as it is, but I'll need to bring the bell with me."


	6. Chapter 6: The Red Bell Part 2

I added to this chapter.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 6: The Red Bell Part 2<span>

Ramsey was feeling guilty as he stoked the coals, shut the metal gates, and signaled to Phoebe outside. Guilty, because he knew he was partly responsible for all this. And because he was guilty, he'd let Molly to go into the mines even with a sprain.

Pressure built up like a heating kettle. A muffled explosion shook the house to its foundations. _Pop!_ Went the bell, up, up into the blue sky, arcing down from its pinnacle like a red meteor into Phoebe's ready arms.

Garmon Mountain's Legend of the Red Bell was a tale he hadn't heard in a long time, until the new rancher spoke to him about his clogged chimney. It was a tale he _himself_ hadn't told, until he'd appended Molly's cursory version, and said that the bell's frame stood deep in the mines.

The fact that she - an outsider, a city girl - knew its story when his own niece and nephew didn't, and was stubborn enough to act on it, convinced Ramsey that fate had brought Molly here for a reason.

A reason for which he was partly responsible - her sprained ankle was his fault.

Ramsey tossed his gloves and apron aside as he watched Phoebe disappear down the street. He should've told Chloe and Owen the tale, then maybe Chloe wouldn't have stolen the bell from its pedestal, or Owen would've returned it if he saw. His wife would've told them, had she still been living. She would've passed the legend to them as they sat at her sandaled feet among the trails of her knitting.

Perhaps if he had contributed in honoring the memory of his land and of his wife, none of this - the chimney, the fall, the sprain, and even the strange phenomena now occurring in Castanet - perhaps none of this would have happened.

There was no helping it now. In a way Molly had come to burden the consequences of their neglect, to repair what they had unwittingly broken.

Ramsey had no wish to be an obstacle; he resolved to do all he could in her support.

X

X

X

Bag-eyed and cranky, Kasey stared at the doorknob of his house's back entrance.

"I don't get it," he told the inanimate knob stonily. "_Why_ are you locked?"

Then, after a desperate and violent struggle to throttle and shoulder-bump the barrier open, the ruffled farmer wearily stepped back, putting his hands on his hips as he assessed this new predicament with forced calm.

His father had locked the door, something that had never happened before.

There was only one obvious solution to this. "OPEN THE DAMNED DOOR, DAD!" he yelled at the second floor windows.

No answer.

Which he should've expected because, Kasey remembered, this _had_ happened before. At what used to be his old house and now Molly's brand new abode, his father would habitually lock the doors, on occasion accidentally locking Kasey out; of course, the man would either be in one of his moods or too drunk to hear his son's dire calls from the snow-muffled yard. After the second winter night Kasey slept in the barn (its holey roof singing with the wind in all its drafty glory) and among the sheep for warmth (luckily he hadn't sheared them yet), Kasey adapted by always leaving a window unlatched.

By experience, the farmer knew his father wouldn't hear him. Yelling would be useless.

Grumbling curses to himself, Kasey stormed into the rosebushes to try the kitchen windows, destroying some flowers and disturbing the quiet, resident bugs in his wake. Grunting, he set his fingers to the window edges, pushed-

-and found them shut fast.

...If only he'd planned for this. If he'd left _any_ window open, he'd be in bed by now, wrapped in fleece quilts and drooling happily in his pillow. Why in goddess' name would his father return to door-locking habits _now_?

Kasey stumbled out of the brambles, twigs and insects clinging to his workpants, and stomped to the front entrance, where he gripped the door handles and heaved with all his young farmer might to no avail.

The rest of his good mood draining rapidly, Kasey stomped back around the house, grabbing his axe on the way, and thrashed into the rosebushes like an angry Godzilla once more.

With the reckless abandon of the sleep-deprived, the farmer raised the axe, ready to smash the kitchen windows into a gratifying shower of broken glass.

At which point the door suddenly opened.

Kasey stared at a gray-eyed woman, who stared at him with equal surprise. Her hand flew to her mouth. "OH!"

Kasey jumped, realizing this must look really bad, poised with a shining axe to smash the windows, even though it _was_ his house. But the woman clapped her hands together delightedly before he could babble a hasty explanation, and in a voice both floaty and high she intoned cheerfully, "You must be Kasey! My," she looked him up and down, "how you look just like your father!"

X

X

X

Dust billowed like a sandstorm as the crash of tumbling rock quaked the cavern.

Molly and Owen were coughing together on the ground. When the dust had settled, they opened their eyes to find each other's faces mere inches away.

Molly scrambled up, and stopped. The bones of her foot felt like they had exploded a second time.

"_OI!_" Owen quickly stood, spreading his arms to catch her. "_Molly, you_-" he began, frustrated, then grit back the rest of his sentence. He nodded gratefully. "Thanks." She had pushed him out of the landslide's way just in time.

"No problem." Balancing on one leg, Molly smiled, though it looked like the expression of someone who had swallowed vomit-tasting medicine to convince her child it was perfectly safe to drink.

"YOU GUYS OKAY OVER THERE?" said the wall of rocks. Or rather, said Phoebe's muffled voice from behind the wall of rocks.

"Just peachy!" Owen answered, as he searched for Molly's walking stick. "Did you see what caused it?"

"Sorry!" said a new voice from the other side. "I'm afraid that was my fault."

X

X

X

Kasey sat stiffly in his chair, back straight, hands balled on fidgeting knees. The only other time he had been this tense was when Irene gave him a one-on-one lecture on 'the birds and the bees.' (Amazed at bodigizer's revitalizing effects, which allowed longer hours on the field and even some mining time before dusk, Kasey had purchased a dozen over the clinic's counter, to the steely-eyed nurse's overwhelming suspicion. How was he supposed to know men used it for... other, racy late-night purposes? The worst part of that session had been the puppet show involving lonely Mr. Cucumber and his caring best friend Mr. Condom.

Kasey never returned to the clinic, no matter how ill he got.)

The tawny-haired woman hummed happily as she made cheese omelets.

A woman. With long hair and hips and everything. His father sometimes had drinking buddies over, but none of them had been women.

A millisecond ago, she had seized the farmer, despite the fact he had been holding an axe, sat him down a chair with surprising force, and ordered him to stay put while she made lunch, since he looked 'as hungry as a baby boar.' It all happened so fast, Kasey's fuzzy brain couldn't catch up to decline.

"Sorry for locking the doors. Kale _did_ say I shouldn't have because you'd be home soon, but I couldn't sleep knowing they were open," the woman said brightly in her kind, floaty voice, snapping him to reality as she cracked an egg into a bowl, "So Kasey sweetie, how old are you?"

"Uh, seventeen-"

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she continued pleasantly before he could ask why she slept over.

"No I don't-"

"REALLY?" Her head snapped. "A handsome boy like you? I woulda thought girls lined up at the door every day!" Then she gasped in absolute shock, which sounded like a drowning person's gasp for breath after being tossed a life donut. Kasey nearly fell off his chair in fright. "_Ohhhhh_," she drawled, nodding slyly; brimming with pride at understanding the situation, she cracked another egg. "It's okay. I can keep a secret, though it's really nothing to be ashamed of. May I know his name, at least?"

Kasey blinked. Then comprehension hit him like a brick. "_What_? I mean, no! I'm not-" he exhaled irritably, suddenly remembering just how tired he was from that twelve-hour ride. He stated flatly, "I don't have anyone." She opened her mouth, Kasey cut her off, "Sorry, but who exactly are you?"

The woman froze, dropping the bowl. "I'M SO SORRY! I HAVEN'T INTRODUCED MYSELF YET! Oh my gosh, you must've been super confused! You can call me Sam!" She gave a giggly, enthusiastic bow, so quick and low her forehead almost hit the floor. "Maple Cuts' hair stylist extraordinaire! I'm a wicked manicurist too, so if you ever need those fingertips done I can give you a special discount," she winked. "Oh, it's just so exciting to finally meet you, Kasey! Kale talks about you all the time you know! I've heard so much about you it's like-"

"Wait, what's your relationship to my dad?" the farmer said seriously, getting up from his seat. He didn't trust his suspicions because they were very, very unlikely. But she seemed a little ditsy, and she slept over, and Kasey couldn't get over the fact her hair was messy and she was dancing around the kitchen cooking barefoot.

Sam had clamped her mouth with both hands when Kasey said 'wait.' With a guilty look, she slowly released, "I'm... his... girlfriend?"

X

X

X

"I believe I stepped on what you Garmoners call a 'pitfall.'" The man got up, setting a ten gallon hat from his head to his chest in a gesture of contrition. He bowed to Phoebe and Chloe. "I feel especially guilty for endangering a woman and child. My apologies."

"You go ahead and search for the pedestal!" Phoebe yelled at the rocks, ignoring him. "Molly has the bell, but Chloe's the one who knows the way. You think you can find another route from there?"

The man's ears twitched at the mention of 'pedestal' and 'bell.'

"The route ain't a problem," yelled Owen's from the other side. "We'll find it... But Phoebes," came his troubled voice, "is my rucksack with you?"

Phoebe looked around. "No, why?"

"Great. I dropped it in the landslide! All my remedies were in there with the snacks!"

"You and Molly should head back then," Phoebe yelled. "It could be dangerous without medicine! What if you waltz into cave gas?"

There was a pause. Then, "...Molly's bein' stubborn, and I'm not leavin' her by herself."

"All right, we'll head to the surface and meet you home in two hours! If you haven't returned by then, we'll send rescue."

"Two hours, got it! You and Chloe be careful!"

"I should be telling you that..." whispered Phoebe as she turned. "C'mon Chloe-"

"-so she was all, 'Molly, you're injured, we are not letting you traverse unfamiliar mines unaccompanied,' and he was all, 'Yeah, Molly, you ain't goin' through this dangerous mountain alone!" Chloe mimed, flashlight swinging with her gestures. "And I, Piratess Chloe, am showing them the way!" she finished with a toothy grin.

"I see." Calvin rubbed his stubbly chin. "Fascinating."

"Chloe, didn't Uncle Ramsey tell you not to talk to strangers?" Phoebe said quietly as she hopped down the rubble slope.

"He did," Chloe agreed, "but Kasey said kidnappers couldn't keep me for longer than five minutes anyway."

Calvin raised his hands defensively. "Hold on! I've no interest in kidnapping anybody! The name's Calvin." He tipped his hat. "Just a humble archeologist in pursuit of Garmon Mountain's ancient ruins - which I haven't found yet, but that's okay! Persistence is key in any line of work, right? Haha!" When neither of them responded, he cleared his throat. "I mean to apologize for that landslide earlier. It appears I've upset your plans."

"Apology accepted," Phoebe said as she looked around for another path. "Though it's hardly necessary. Accidents are frequent here in the mines. Chloe," she addressed the little girl when she had found the path, "we're going home."

"WHAT? WHY?" Chloe and Calvin whined despairingly.

Phoebe blinked. "Because Owen and Molly don't have remedies. If something happens to them, we'll need to call rescue."

"But I wanna see the bell ring!" Chloe cried.

"A perfectly reasonable desire!" Calvin said, nodding supportively.

"Ya hear that?" Chloe repeated in triumph, "Perfectly reasonable!" She whispered to Calvin loudly, "_Why's it reas'nable?_"

"Because," the archeologist told Phoebe in his lowest tones, blue eyes sparkling, "the Red Bell is a monument to your island's profound history, the very proof of your ancestors' fellowship with nature! Its ring is a musical litany, calling to man's aid unfathomable powers. To watch it ring is to be reliving the _past_! I'm sure you already know, but yours were a great people that possessed an uncanny ability to see nature's different personas, and th- hey! Wait!"

Phoebe was already dragging Chloe backwards by the hand. "Don't make eye-contact," she advised the little girl flatly, who was staring starry-eyed at Calvin as he chased after them. "I feel involving ourselves with him will only be troublesome." It was a similar premonition to her first meeting with Owen, Luke, and Kasey; the inventor shuddered.

"He's kinda hard to understand," Chloe said, then grinned as though she had found herself a brand new toy. "I LIKE HIM!"

X

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X

Chapter 6: The Red Bell Part 2.5

The bowels of a giant. That's how dark the cave was. And like the bowels of a giant, its solid tunnels rumbled in amusement when miners landed on pitfalls.

But the cave was silent now, punctuated now and again by the _plick_ of dripping water; two circles of light widened and shrank upon cold, glistening walls; two sets of careful gaits passed like cat paws between scattered mounds of stone.

Owen walked ahead.

Molly concentrated on not tripping on her walking stick, and was busy trying not to blush.

The whole day seemed bent on contriving heart-fluttering moments between her and the blacksmith: his flirtatious comments, his protectiveness, that pitfall and that landslide, had put them in the clichéd proximity of characters from TV dramas, which were tastelessly notorious for the absurd circumstances schemed for the sole purpose of making characters interact.

Molly usually scoffed at how unrealistic these wastes-of-time were, though her friends followed the Blairs and Edwards like disciples of some salacious religion. They'd throw their used tissues at Molly whenever she purposely switched the channel in the middle of a touching scene. It was alright. The Green's movie room technically belonged to Molly anyway, as the heiress used it more frequently than her old-fashioned parents did, who preferred chess and coffee in the rose garden.

Oh, if her Academy friends could see her now, impaired by a sprain, _alone_ with a hunky redhead, in a dark, relatively dangerous cave... Well, not _alone_ alone. Finn was still floating by her shoulder, which was a relief. Otherwise she'd be flustered enough to trip all over the place, then Owen would end up carrying her, then she'd lose the rest of her self-respect.

"Are all city girls like you?"

"Sorry? Ah- _hey_!"

He shined his flashlight on her face. In the darkness it was like being beamed by helicopter police. "Stubborn, a little reckless," the smith said conversationally. "Maybe a 6.5 on the crazy scale?"

Finally succumbing to a blush, Molly, in good humor, fixed her own vengeful beam upon his eyes. "You sure you're not talking about yourself? That bear you wrestled looked pretty strong."

"Oh it's all right for me." Owen returned his light to the path in front. "I'm used to being an idiot. _You_, on the other hand, got here just yesterday, stepped on your first pitfall, got your first sprain, are currently limping, remedy-less, into pretty damned hazardous territory you ain't familiar with, and to do what?" He jerked his head at the red object on her belt. "To ring that banged-up old bell... Honestly, I don't get why this couldn't wait 'til your foot healed."

_"B-banged up old bell? BANGED-UP OLD BELL YOU SAY? Oh heavenly elements- HAVE ALL GARMONERS FORGOTTEN THEIR SACRED DUTIES TO CASTANET'S FIRE?"_

"Chloe said we were very close." Molly rubbed her ear with a pinky as Finn continued to rage. "I just thought it'd be best if we finished this while we can. Ringing the bell is supposed to help your island, after all."

"Help the island?" Owen stared dubiously over his muscled shoulder. "How is ringing a bell supposed to help the island?"

At this statement, Finn ceased raging. Slack-jawed, he began anew. _"HOW IS RINGING THE BELL SUPPOSED TO - oh great spinning tornadoes - WERE YOU TRULY RAISED IN CASTANET OR WHAT?-"_

"I-I'm not sure." Molly's head tilted opposite the apoplectic sprite. "And I can't find out because my source doesn't know either. But I'm sure something good will happen."

Owen quirked a brow. This girl was strange. Despite all that previous persistence in finding the pedestal, she didn't know exactly what she was persisting for.

Then another important question struck him. "Source?"

Molly urk-ed. Why'd she have to mention that? "Er, it's hard to explain. I was told this bell kept Castanet healthy, which is why I want to ring it as soon as possible."

If it weren't for Molly's embarrassed visage indicating genuine seriousness, Owen would have laughed. Politely stoic-faced, he wondered aloud, "You mean, someone actually said, ringing that bell's gonna magically make our island healthy again?"

"Um, yes."

Owen coughed. "And you uh, believe this source."

"Er, yes..." If she could believe in mythical sprites, she might as well go the rest of the way and believe what they say. "He's very knowledgeable about... some things. So it's hard not to."

"Who is he?" Owen was genuinely curious now.

_-AND GROWING WATERMELONS WITH ROASTED HALIBUTS- wait, are you talking about me?_

"You wouldn't know."

_Wouldn't know what?_

"Maybe I would," he challenged.

_What would he know? Hey, what's going on?_

Molly sweatdropped. "No, you really wouldn't."

_I don't get it._

Owen grinned. "Please, try me."

Finn grimaced. _Molly, is he suggesting something you humans call 'dirty'?_

Molly swatted Finn away.

"O-okay." She would purposely leave out the more absurd details. "His name is Finn. He wears a cap and an orange... body suit. One day he came to my house and said the Harvest Tree was dying, and he needed my help to save it." So much for leaving the absurd details out.

Owen suppressed a snort. "A cap and an orange body suit?"

"I-I did say you wouldn't know him."

"I know what the Harvest Tree is though." Owen frowned. This Finn probably lived in Castanet too. "Wait, did you say the Harvest Tree is _dying_?"

"So I was told." Because she couldn't bear to meet his eyes, Molly opted to admire the stalactites. "I had to go see it. But the path to the pond is blocked, and when I tried going through, all sorts of animals suddenly jumped in the way. They seemed hostile, so we- I didn't dare pass."

"Hostile?"

"Uh, it means aggressive. Angry. Um, 'Go away!'"

"I know what it means." Brow furrowed, Owen's countenance was one of deep contemplation. He wasn't sure what to make of this information. "So someone in a cap and body suit told you to save the tree?"

Molly nodded.

"But animals are blocking the way?"

Molly nodded again.

"And that same someone said we should ring this bell, 'cause it's supposed to help the island?"

Molly nodded one final time, cheeks burning.

Owen gave her a silent look. "Forget the 6.5," it seemed to say. "You're a 10 on that crazy scale. You take the damn Crazy Trophy." Of course, the look only _seemed_ to say that, since Molly was feeling insecure. She didn't like appearing weird or incompetent - dropping hammers, stepping on holes, being saved by men, struggling through a dangerous mission based on the faulty assessment of a vaguely-described source. She was the heiress of an esteemed family company, for goodness sake! Indignity was veritably crime!

But she _did_ accept the fact any believer in forest sprites would, at one time or another, appear foolish, or schizophrenic, to everyone else. Not to Kasey, though; she and he could be Team Skitzo together.

At any rate, telling anybody about Finn was out-of-the-question. Who knew what the villagers would do if they thought the newcomer was mentally unhinged. Molly had no wish to risk it (although Owen seemed a nice enough guy) because she had a mission to accomplish:

Two years, her parents had said, two years of field work and the company would be hers.

That meant two years of being an accepted neighbor, not a suspicious bell-ringer that argued with herself and swatted empty air.

Just now, Molly had made a mistake, mentioning a source. She had to take care not to speak of goddesses or forest sprites when ringing the bells. Ramsey was baffled enough when Molly asked for the Red Bell. Vague reasons were insufficient in explaining why she wanted to ring it, or convincing the Master Smith, without being impertinent, to give it to her.

So Molly told Ramsey the truth.

She repeated what Finn had said, that the Red Bell was somehow connected to Castanet's decline, and that sounding it was supposed to help. She couldn't explain how, because Finn didn't know, but after she had told him theBell's purported function, Ramsey perceived her with an entirely different air. "There was," he whispered, lowering his pipe as though struck by an epiphany, "a tale about that somewhere..."

At that point, he agreed to help her.

It was a close call with Ramsey; sheer luck had been on Molly's side when he decided to trust her.

Owen might be different.

Molly needed to restore Owen's confidence, and her personal dignity. So she resolved to speak no more of Finn, and if possible, the bell, for the remainder of their acquaintance.

Having her fill of stalactites, she began admiring stalagmites.

Owen felt her discomfort and sighed. Obviously she had a fantastic secret; to probe further would mean impinging on her comfort zone, and that was hardly his style. However, there was one thing that bothered him. "I don't get why Gramps let you go."

Molly looked up. Owen stared straight ahead.

"He never lets anyone injured go into the mines. Especially not newcomers... Heck, he wouldn't even let _me_ work with so much as a cold." His voice hardened. "It seems... he trusts you a lot."

"Oh, it's not me he trust," Molly said, distracted from her shyness by the tinge of dejection in his voice. "I was being... difficult." She was well aware of their misgivings; it was, after all, the reason he, Phoebe and Chloe had insisted on coming with her. But Molly was not the type to delay any task if she could still go on. So she decided to ring the bell despite the sprain. "It isn't me he trusts," she said again, remembering how they had all been kind enough to humor her selfishness. "He trusts _you_."

Owen exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Nah, I don't think so. You and Phoebe are pretty responsible, and Gramps recognizes that which is great! I haven't exactly been a reliable nephew anyway... You wouldn't believe the amount of trouble I've caused him all these years," he said laughingly, and stopped walking. Then he turned to Molly, grey eyes like smoky glass, and smiled. "But I'll admit, I was pretty jealous when he let you go without a hitch..." _You're sure of yourself_, Ramsey had told her at the beginning of their expedition, _so don't let me down_. The words echoed again and again in Owen's mind. "Ah, _ hey_!"

The rancher had shined her flashlight full on his face.

"Who protected Chloe from that bear?"

Owen raised a hand to block the light. "Molly what-"

"You did." She hobbled closer. "And who was brave enough to lure that bear away from town? You were." Voice growing firmer, she raised the beam. "Who gathered all the ores we needed to pop the bell out?"

She was near enough that Owen could count the curls of hair around her face; Molly went on more earnestly.

"Who offered to take the bell to its pedestal in my stead? Who volunteered to keep me company in this so-called 'hazardous territory, remedy-less'? _You_!" She was very close now, her light sharp and pure like a miniature sun. "And who didn't hesitate to save me from that pitfall, so now his back is all bruised and secretly hurting, yet he won't say anything because he doesn't wanna worry anyone?"

Through the whiteness, Owen caught glimpses of her hair's auburn and her eye's flashing red.

Like garnets, he thought.

Molly put the flashlight down. "You're very reliable, Owen," she finished softly. "Your uncle trusts you. Why else would he allow three girls to go into this mine if he didn't know you could protect us?"

The apprentice lowered his hand and let his eyes refocus in silence.

He let the dramatic pause sink like a stone in a still pond, making ripples in time.

The stone was only halfway down when Owen turned away and answered her rhetorical question dryly. "Maybe because Gramps knows me, Chloe, and Phoebe are all familiar with this place? Phoebes and Chloe can take care of themselves in the mines, even without me with 'em."

His unexpected retort deflated the profound mood.

Molly sputtered, "Y-yes, but-"

"And that bear was me and Chloe's fault anyway, so it's only right we'd take responsibility for it. Same with the bell getting stuck in our exhaust," he went on matter-of-factly.

That was true. "Well-"

"Now coming with you, that's just standard courtesy. No decent human being's gonna let a newcomer travel the mountain guts all on their lonesome. I know I can be an idiot sometimes, but I'm no jerk."

That was true too. "N-not everyone-"

"As for the rest of what you said, my back doesn't hurt as much as you think, 'cause there's a way to landin' that's safe..." An afterthought occurred to him. "Which, by the way, I'm gonna have to teach you once your foot's healed." He grinned winsomely in the dim light. "Let's make it a date, then."

Molly's heart skipped a beat.

_Why'd_ he have to do that? For goodness' sake, did he _not_ want to be comforted? She nearly stamped her feet in frustration. "_Owen_-"

"Thank you, Molly."

Molly realized her heart couldn't take all this skipping. Flustered, the young rancher took a second to compose herself. "I... I should be the one thanking _you_! I would've had severer injuries if you hadn't saved me... And, Owen," she faced him guiltily, "I'm truly, truly sorry! I really should've been more careful! There's absolutely no reason for you to be jealous. Ramsey trusts you! You _are_ reliable! So please don't ever think otherwise!" She noticed he had been covering his eyes. "Owen?"

Head bent down, he swore under his breath. "Sorry. But I get what your saying... Molly, your head doesn't hurt does it? You can see all right? You didn't get hit by any orange gas during that landslide?"

"No," she said nervously, and reached out. "Owen, are you okay? What's wrong?"

He dropped his hands and looked around, blinking and squinting. He waved his flashlight across his face, without flinching. Then he looked straight at Molly, gray eyes unfocused.

He laughed, "I can't see a thing."

X

X

X


	7. Chapter 7: The Red Bell Part 3

Rereading the last chapter I realized I forgot to explain: Kasey's doors have bolts, not keyholes. That's why he couldn't use a key. Eheh. Writing failure on my part. Sorry about that. Guess that's what beta readers are for, huh?

Thank you for your patience. It's been a painfully slow start, but I hope these new chapters will feel faster and more entertaining, since I think I finally know how to do that.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 7: The Red Bell Part 3<span>

"How long have you been seein' each other?" Kasey glared like a father interrogating his daughter's new boyfriend.

"Ohh, since last Fall." Kale gazed at Sam. "You were wearin' a white dress the first time I saw you, walkin' among the red leaves. I remember thinking, gosh, it ain't often an undeservin' man's blessed seein' such beauty."

"Oh Kale, stop it!" She giggled. "That wasn't the first time we met. We've been goin' to the same bar forever, but we only started really talkin' around then. Isn't that right, Kale?"

He sighed lovingly. "And what heavenly bliss ever since."

Kasey knew this wouldn't work. He'd been on edge, twitching, since Sam's confession, and now his father was acting like a lovestruck idiot. "Dad, I'm gonna borrow Sam for a sec." With barely controlled panic, he dragged the giddy hairdresser to the garden.

The moment the screen door shut, Kasey blurted, "You know what he is, right? A DRUNK! HE'S A DRUNK, SAM! He needs alcohol to think properly, or else he gets these crazy mood swings! One minute he's a romantic goof, the next he'll keep to himself and take off without sayin' a thing! During the drought, he got so angry he almost-" Kasey swallowed; disparaging his father like this was painful, but she _had to know_. "He almost killed someone, Sam... You can't be his girlfriend. Stickin' with him isn't safe, and you won't be happ-"

She hugged him. The rancher froze.

"I know everything," she whispered, voice shaking. "He told me, Kasey. He told me about you, about your mom, about what almost happened - about what _would've_ happened if you hadn't been there to stop him. He knows you'd try to follow him sometimes, when he's out for too long, and I think he's never introduced me because he knew what you'd say."

She held him at arm's length. "I used to be scared of him. Always at the bar, he was, all quiet-like. Nobody went near him 'cause we were all scared. But one night, on my way home, he saved me from a bunch of thugs. Beat 'em up, he did! He got bruises and cuts, all for my sake. I tried to thank him, but you know what he said, walkin' away? 'I'm an undeservin' man,' he said, 'so don't thank me. Just get yourself home.' And I knew then that he was a _good_ man. A _good_ man, but broken, and confused, and sorry." She shook the farmer. "You gotta give him a chance, Kasey!"

At those words, he recalled the bouts of violence, when his father would rage and hurt Kasey by mistake, the times he'd lock Kasey out of the house in winter, or the time he'd threatened Kasey not to return until he'd gathered enough lumber...

...then there was the time his father had almost killed a fellow farmer, the incident which had made moving to Harpsichord Town necessary.

The rancher gently removed her hands. His voice was low. "Sam, I don't want you seeing each other again." He met her doe-like eyes. "A real relationship... it's not gonna work."

"It already has," Kale said, making the Sam and Kasey jump. "Thank you, honey-whiskers, but I'll take it from here."

X

"I understand why you're uncomfortable with this."

Kasey, feeling bad that his father heard, was staring at his boots as Sam closed the door to give them the privacy of the field. "Do you?" the young rancher said levelly, meeting Kale's eyes; besides a pet name like 'honey-whiskers' there was a whole damn lot to be uncomfortable with. "Do you really understand, Dad? 'Cause if you do, then maybe it ain't my place to keep you guys apart after all. 'Cause if you _do_ understand, you know you're gonna have to pull yourself together and _treat her right_." He felt anger flaring in his lungs. "You can't just take off anymore. You can't throw a fit and expect her to clean up after you! You'll start _working_, 'cause now you'll have _two_ to support! Hell, you'll give up _boozing_! You understand that, _right Dad_?"

A silence.

Kale struggled to hold his son's gaze. "Son, I'm sorry."

Kasey shook. He scoffed. "You've said that lots of times. Mostly when you were plastered."

"But I'm sober _now_!" Kale stepped forward. "I've _been_ sober. For five months and fourteen days! And employed. I've been workin' at Maple Cuts since the night Sam and I met."

The statement stilled Kasey.

"I told her myself it wouldn't work out." Kale seemed to be trying to find the right words. "Kasey, she - stuck by me... through everything." He hesitated, as though bracing himself. "She - waded - in the lowest, filthiest, most disgusting place a man can slip, took me by the hand and pulled me out... And boy, was it hella hard. But... I... I was able to do it. Because of her, I was able to do it." His mouth turned up slightly in a ghost of a smile; it had a quality of sad acceptance, like a shard of rusted steel, that was scraped and polished and drenched in acid until some gleaming hint of its old shine returned.

"Wait," Kasey began. He almost got distracted by that smile; it was a glimpse of something old and familiar. "Wait, _five months_?"

"Yep," Kale said with a hint of pride. "And fourteen days. Still countin'."

"_Maple Cuts_? "

"Started out sweepin' up hair. Now I man the register."

"W-where've you been staying? Is that why you're barely home? You've been on the wagon, and... and _working_?" Kasey stared and stepped back. "Why haven't you said anything?"

After a long, seemingly unending pause, and a deep, seemingly unending breath, Kale told his son why.

X

X

X

"It's just darkness gas!" Owen said, waving his arms as though that would boost the persuasiveness of his explanation.

"D-darkness gas?" Molly hiccupped tearfully. She had been apologizing for shining the flashlight on his face because she remembered Finn once telling her artificial lights caused blindness. You never did think about the good ol' days, before flashlights and TV, when people never wore glasses and entertained themselves instead by kicking balls and swinging sticks and stuff. Molly normally dismissed the sprite's comments as his usual superstitious paranoia against human technology. Until now.

Owen had to assure her the only way a flashlight would blind anyone was if it were javelined into Anyone's eye socket.

"Yeah! Darkness gas!" he said. "There're all sorts of gas trapped in rocks here. That's why you gotta be careful when you're mining. I'm blind now, but it's only temporary. Must've sniffed some during that landslide... Gas effects turn up immediately for most people, but I'm a special case. For some reason, gas sickness doesn't turn up on me 'til much later. If we had remedies, this wouldn't be a problem.. at least you didn't get hit. And since you're fine, I'm sure we'll make it out somehow." He grinned reassuringly. Owen chose not to mention how darkness gas usually blacked out just the _sides_ of one's vision, not one's _whole_ vision. But it seemed the gods were especially against them that day.

Molly wiped her eyes. "We should head back then... Phoebe was right. We should've just gone home after we dropped your rucksack." She was tearing up again. Molly did her best to hold it in. "This whole thing... I thought we could just ring the bell and be done with it... but nothing's turning out like I thought it would!"

"We're not going back."

"But we have to! Your eyes-"

"I'd say the same for your sprain." Though his eyes were unfocused, he looked directly at her. "If everything turned out the way we thought it would, life wouldn't be as exciting. Like you said," he swung his hammer on his shoulder readily, "we've come this far. Might as well finish it while we can." He couldn't see her open her mouth to argue, but he knew she was going to, and so he cut her off. "You owe me that much. After all the trouble you've put me through, you'd better do this for me now."

Molly fell silent. She knew what he was doing by saying that. And he knew that she knew.

Satisfied that he had won, Owen went on a little more cheerfully. "Now, you mind lending me an elbow?"

X

X

X

"I know I haven't been... the best dad to you." He struggled to find words. "Since your mother died, it's just been... for a long time I... just couldn't _accept_ it. And it was you who had to deal with me. For ten years, you had to deal with me... and I know, after all my foolishness has put you through, that 'sorry' ain't gonna cut it. So I'll say something you haven't heard."

Kasey found himself shaking. Kale walked forward. He put a hand on Kasey's shoulder.

"Thank you, son. For everything... "

X

_Come back. Flower harvest. Need extra help. Mom says she'll pay. Bring choco cake._

_-Taylor_

_P.S. And ice cream! Oh, and Juli says he wants pumpkin pie. -Chloe_

_Don't be stupid, Chloe. He can't bring ice cream. It'll melt on the way._

_Taylor called me stupid :( Taylor, YOU'RE stupid! _[Beside this was a large, spiky circle with five wonky lines growing out from under it. Kasey could only assume this was Chloe's drawing of Taylor. The face, or what _might_ account for a face, but looked more like a deformed pumpkin than anything else, was made to look more unfortunate by a series of marks, which could be read as blisters, excessive facial hair, and five types of skin tumors. Beneath Chloe's writing were more lines, written in flamboyant cursive.]

_Bring that yellow parka we bought! I just thought of a fabulous outfit you can wear for the festival! See you soon Kasey darling!_ [Heart]_ Julius _[Signed with a flourish.]

Slumping against the tree, Kasey refolded the note. Through a window in the boughs, he turned to see his father tilling the cabbage patch, as Sam, with a sly glance, suddenly sprinkled water on his head. Kale, laughing, caught her before she could get away, and they twirled, laughing together above the blossomed tulips.

Kasey watched them for a while... namely a good ten minutes, he thought sourly, wondering when they planned to stop frolicking and return to work.

Then, having come to a decision, the young rancher jumped down to start saddling Raizen.

X

X

X

"You said animals were guarding it right? The path to the Goddess Pond, I mean." Owen followed right behind Molly.

"Yes." Molly felt strange having her elbow in someone's constant touch. "But if it's still blocked, I might take the forest path instead."

"I don't think you'll need to do that."

Molly was just about to ask why when a screaming Finn shot to her chest, making her stumble. Owen blindly bumped into her, and since she wasn't stable enough on a walking stick, they fell to the ground, dust clouds billowing everywhere.

"It was just a _mole_!" Molly yelled at Finn, who was sandwiched between her and Owen going _Mmfffpt!_

Owen's blank eyes were inches from her own. Of course they would be. It had only happened a kazillion times today! Molly silently cursed, 'Damn ye Gods of Unrealistic, Tasteless Romance!' Somewhere, above their heads, a fanfiction writer snickered.

"Er, um, there was a mole," she explained on Finn's behalf, her eyes irrevocably fixed on his. Inner Molly the Hormonal sighed something Shakespearean about grey eyes; Inner Molly the Practical slapped her. "It popped out of the ceiling... like a diglet... I-I got really scared." Molly blushed. To her amazement, Owen did too.

_Mmfffpt! _said Finn.

"You scared _me_, suddenly stoppin' like that!" Owen wore an embarrassed scowl. "It's hard not bein' able to see! I never know what's goin' on."

_Mffptfffpt!_ said Finn more urgently.

"Yes. Hmm. That _is_ troublesome. Good thing it's only temporary," said Molly, nervousness rising. "I'm sorry for scaring you. Maybe we should... um... sit. To catch our breaths."

To Finn's relief, Owen realized their awkward positions, and quickly rolled off with much clearing of throat and apologies.

The wheezing sprite, who looked like the miner's abs, floated up in erratic spirals.

"The pedestal!" Molly suddenly announced happily, forgetting their fall entirely. "Owen, we're here!"

"Already?" the miner said _un_happily. He blinked, surprised by his own tone. He'd been eager to end this trip from the beginning. Now he was just confused.

"There are rocks in the way though..." Owen heard her scrabbling ahead. "And a boulder is blocking the entrance. I can see the pedestal from a gap... Do you mind if I use your hammer to clear this up?"

"I'll do it," he said.

"But you're... blind."

He smirked. "Better than crippled."

X

"Here?"

"Um, a little to the left."

"But I can feel it." He kicked the rock in front of him. "It's right here."

She sweatdropped. "Whatever feels right to you," she conceded.

"Okay..." He spread his feet. "Whatever feels right to me." Then he smashed the rock in front of him.

...Unleashing a hissing cloud of yellow gas. It enveloped the miner, who could have dodged or held his breath if he saw. Owen sighed as his eyes fluttered shut.

Gasping, Molly caught him. Or rather, cushioned him, because as the rancher triumphantly hooked both arms beneath his armpits, she fell soundly to the ground in another cloud of dust. The hammer clattered beside them.

X

X

X

"This is our chance to witness _history_ in the making!" Calvin pleaded with all the force of his natural charm.

"PleasePleasePlease Please PleasePlease Please," deep breath, "PleasePleasePleasePlease?" What charm Chloe didn't have she made up for with sheer, juvenile stubbornness.

Phoebe sighed, rubbing her temples. It'd be less painful to humor them now than resist their pleading the rest of the day. "All right."

"YES!" Calvin and Chloe high-fived. Seeing Phoebe's serious face, they quickly composed themselves.

"Thanks, Phoebe." Chloe shuffled her feet. "I'll give you some of Granpa's buckwheat soba, since I know you like those."

"Ahem. Yes, thank you. And I'll..." Calvin thought for a moment. "Let's just say I owe you one."

Ignoring their obvious glee, the inventor eyed them both. "We find Molly and Owen as quickly as possible, understood?"

"Right."

"Gotcha."

It wasn't long before they realized the cavern's mysterious atmosphere was perfect for adventure stories.

"They blew up the bridge," Calvin declared with theatrical grace. "I could still hear the chieftain's daughter screaming for help as they stole into the forest; I looked at the full moon, knowing there wasn't much time left before they cut her heart out for the ritual. But the bridge was out, and I couldn't just swim across. The river frothed with danger! Its poisonous snakes and vicious crocodiles would tear me to pieces!"

"Piranhas?" Chloe asked eagerly. Not even an owl with swollen eyes could beat the size hers had. "Were there piranhas too?"

"Oh yes," Calvin nodded sagely. "And they wanted _blood..._ a lot like your classmates might during recess."

"Woooooah." Her classmates during recess could indeed be very dangerous.

"Luckily, I still had my whip." Calvin swung his muscled arms impressively. "I whipped a tree branch, swung across, and dashed into the forest. Her screams led me to a clearing. At least a hundred men, each armed with a rifle, surrounded her... What did I have? One revolver. One bullet, and..." Calvin made a gun with his fingers and aimed, "...one chance."

"_WOOOOOW!_" Any bigger, and Chloe's eyeballs would have slipped from their sockets. "AND THEN? _AND THEN_?"

Calvin smiled, then shrugged. "For now, let that be the end of our story."

"EHHHHHHH?" Chloe scowled; her face couldn't get any uglier. "B-but what about the chieftain's daughter? And the hundred men? And your one chance?"

"If I told you the rest now, I'd run out of stories too soon!" Calvin laughed. "Tell you what though," his voice lowered confidentially, "why don't we strike a deal? I propose a trade."

Phoebe deferred them a curious glance. Calvin put his cowboy hat on Chloe's head. "My stories for yours."

Chloe blinked, tilting the hat up. "Your stories for mine?"

"Yep! If you tell me a story about your town, or about Castanet, or even about the bells, I'll tell you a story about my travels in exchange. A story for a story."

"But that... wouldn't be fair." Chloe pouted, and lowered her head. "I don't have cool stories like you do."

"Sure you do! Let me tell you something, little lady, and this here's the honest truth. That story you told me earlier, about you coming down the mines to ring a red bell that got stuck in your uncle's chimney, is the coolest story I've heard in a long time."

Chloe looked up skeptically. "...Really?"

Calvin nodded, his expression serious. "Really."

"But there wasn't any gunfights, or rit-wuhls, or piranhas!"

"You kidding?" He gestured grandly. "Using an _explosion_ to get the bell unstuck, surviving _pitfalls_, exploring these very intricate mines - even I didn't get to do stuff like this when I was your age! I bet you've got lots of cool stories to tell!"

Chloe considered it. "I guess... maybe I do!" In thoughtful happiness, Chloe went ahead; at length she began pretending to be Molly, then Phoebe, then Owen, reliving what had happened that morning. The cowboy hat was still on her head.

The fact that he got someone to see their own life the way _he_ saw it from afar, gave Calvin a small sense of contentment.

Phoebe said something.

Calvin blinked back to reality. "Beg your pardon?"

"I said it's clever," Phoebe pointed to Chloe, "what you just did. But if I were doing an archeological paper, I'd schedule an interview. It'd be more straightforward." She chuckled. "You might regret striking a 'story for a story' deal with Chloe. She can be a real chatterbox."

"I've considered the risks." Calvin gave a sheepish laugh. "But I'm not doing a paper at the moment."

Phoebe blinked. "Really?" She stared at him thoughtfully. "Huh. Then you want to learn more about Castanet and the bells. You know, our shop's got some pamphlets and books on it...Though they might not have the kind of information you're looking for, judging by your interest in real people's stories... still, stop by the General Store sometime."

"Thank you." Calvin nodded. "Perhaps I will."

After a while, Phoebe said suddenly, "The deal seems a little unfair."

"Eh?"

"Chloe's going to tell you true stories. I suppose you're going to make up your own adventures..." Phoebe frowned. It was so deep a frown, it could almost be a pout. "It's all right, really. Just seems a little unfair."

"Who says my adventures aren't true?"

Phoebe faltered. "Well, they can't be."

Calvin scratched his head and let out a sheepish laugh. "Yeah, I... get that reaction a lot. That's why I've stopped telling adults about my internship days."

X

X

X

"Owww..." Molly whined after a few deep breaths, raising her left foot as it throbbed anew, nerves singing like fire alarms. "Fiiiinnn, I'm getting tired of this! I've been tripping and slipping and _falling_ all day!" She sniffled. "I know this might sound a little conceited, but this really isn't something I'm used to..."

"Mmm... I've been falling too..." Owen mumbled. Molly looked at his upside-down face; his head was on her lap.

"That's it? Tripping, slipping, falling?" Finn alighted on her head; he had sufficiently re-inflated himself, except for a bump on his brow where Owen's bellybutton might have been. "Try getting swatted, squished, and _shocked_ all day!" He glared at her. "One of which, by the way, was totally uncalled for!"

"It was totally called for," Molly said gloomily, lowering her foot. "You were suggesting things."

"Hmph! Can't blame me, seeing as the two of you are always in each other's arms and all," Finn said dryly. Then he hugged himself, shuddering. "Ugh, my heart can't take another mole fright!"

"Mmmy heart can't take it either..."

"Finally! Someone who agrees!" The sprite nodded. "Popping up in someone's beeline unannounced is quite rude, isn't it? These moles should really learn some manners."

"I wanna... pop... your beeline..."

"Why, thank you for letting me know! Ya see, Molly? Now if everyone had manners like that, we would have fewer things to be shocked of while flying waaaiiiitaminute." He glared at the sleeping form.

"He can hear you, Finn." She stated the obvious in case the sprite might miss it again.

Owen wrinkled his brow. "'Mmmcourse I can hear..."

Wide-eyed, Finn flew closer. "Mr. Blacksmith?"

"Mmmlater, Chloe... bed feels good..." He snuggled deeper into Molly's skirt. Molly gently, but firmly pushed him to the ground. He continued sleeping peacefully, a serene smile on his lips.

"How is it he can hear you, Finn?" She stared at Owen's face. "I hope it's not because of something lame like, in an unconscious state, the effects of external stimuli weaken, therefore allowing the mind to attune itself more readily to the supernatural world, or some silliness like that."

Finn poked Owen's cheek. "Honestly, I don't even know what you just said."

X

Molly single-footedly dragged the snoring miner to a corner, which was so impressive a feat Finn couldn't help applauding. Then, pillowing Owen's head with her belt bag, Molly hopped to where the hammer lay.

"As soon as you see any sign of gas, tell me okay? If I go down like Owen, we'll have to wait another time to bring the bell ba-" She had been experimenting standing on her sprain, and received a painful shock from overbalancing.

The sprite noticed, and said concernedly, "Maybe you should've let him do the cast after all... I've seen human children wrap sandwiches better than that."

"I've never wrapped a sandwich in my life." Molly scowled, leaning weakly on her hammer. "And I've caused enough trouble as it is." She tried another position; it was just as painful as the others. "If I could've made up for it all by doing things by myself, I would've... In the end I've caused even more trouble coming down here..." She spread her legs, like Owen had demonstrated. "I didn't think they'd come with me, Finn. I didn't think Owen would stay after the landslide either. And when I said we should head home after he lost his eyesight, _he_ was the one who insisted that we keep going... People here are different." She raised the hammer. "They really, honestly _care_." Her left ankle set, Molly grit back the pain and swung...

X

..Then dropped, breathless, on the other side, after crawling through the gap she had made in the boulder. The hammer fell with her, squishing something. Neither she nor Finn noticed.

Laying the hammer by her leg, she sat down with the Red Bell on her lap. She stretched out her sprained ankle, its cast in tatters.

Finn floated before her. He stared at the bruises and cuts, at the dirt on her skin and clothes, which had accumulated since that morning, while she tended the farm, helped retrieve the bell, and explored the mines. "Molly..."

"Just... let me rest..." she said, breathing hard. She smiled. "We'll get it... up and ringing soon."

Seeing her determination, Finn smiled too, and nodded.

When she was ready, Molly heaved herself off the ground using Owen's hammer as support, and leaned against the wall to judge the distance between herself and the ancient pedestal. On any other day, strolling toward it would've been a simple matter. At the moment, all her limbs ached, and her left ankle was already beginning to numb from small movements due to the loose cast.

"Oh!" Finn suddenly exclaimed as he flew through the gap. "Molly, you wait here! Rest a bit more!"

"Where are you going?" she called out.

"Getting your walking stick! That hammer's too heavy to drag with you!" It took him some time to bring the walking stick out. Molly could tell, despite the sprite's serious face, that he was straining his wings to its fullest.

"Thanks, Finn," she said, catching the walking stick, and with it, hobbled toward the pedestal.

The Red Bell glowed.

Molly felt its heat. It rattled on its hook, vibrating faster and faster. She and Finn shared worried glances.

Then, an explosion! The cavern shook.

"I'M FIIIINALLLY BAAAACK!" a voice shouted in triumph, echoing through the very solidness of the cave. Pebbles moved and dust clouded the air as the ground and walls reverberated to its sound.

Molly shielded her eyes against the explosion's white light, noticing the growing heat - a slow, heavy, and warm pressure, making her skin prickle and sweat trickle down her neck.

"First, I must thank you!" The shaking subsided. Molly uncovered her eyes; a red Finn, standing in front of the bell, bowed. "The Harvest Goddess asked you to help, right?"

Molly had to find her voice. "Um... no..." she answered, almost ruefully. "We... haven't met with her yet."

"Oh." The sprite looked shocked. "So you knew about the legend? The story of the Bells? The Harvest Tree's Renewal? Wow! I didn't think _anyone_ knew about the legend anymore!"

"Well, Finn here knew at once that you were... sacred. And we learned about the pedestal from the town blacksmith."

"Finn?"

Finn peeked from behind Molly's head. He flew down and bowed. "Yessir. I felt... a kinship with you the moment I saw your bell."

"AH! _YOU_!" The Red Bell Sprite shook Finn's hands excitedly. "That's why I thought the Goddess was near! You're the Goddess' messenger, aren't you? She created you from her spirit and sent you to find someone who could see us!" He grinned at Molly; then went on more thoughtfully, "But that means... the situation _must_ be dire. I'm probably not the only one who couldn't ring his bell..." The sprite cleared his throat. "Yes... we Harvest Sprites failed to fulfill our duty... But it's not too late to complete our mission. The Harvest Goddess is also waiting for the Red Bell to ring. So let's get to it!"

X

X

X

"I don't buy it," Phoebe said flatly, crossing her arms. "You couldn't have done that with a single shot. No way."

Calvin sighed. "I don't expect you to believe me."

"And of the hundred men with rifles, _none_ of them hit you?" Phoebe scoffed. "Good for you, but unlikely."

"I suspect they were tired from their journey..." Calvin rolled his shoulders in discomfort. "Not to mention how dark it was."

"You're just trying to make everything sound more impressive!" the inventor accused. "And more dangerous! Like that part with the river! Snakes, crocodiles, and piranhas don't clump together in the same area of water! They'd just eat each other!"

"Like I said, the ritual was making bizarre things happen!"

"Right, right," she said dryly. "In the same way our neglect of the bells is causing the bizarre happenings here, right?"

"Quite possibly, yes!" Calvin retorted.

"Hey!" Chloe called back suspiciously, cowboy hat still on her head, "You're not talkin' about the ending are you?"

Suddenly, the cave rumbled. A rush of hot air briefly blasted them, as though a colossal balloon had been popped at the end of their tunnel.

"What was that?" Phoebe held her flashlight like a sword.

"It's starting." Calvin said, rushing ahead. "Let's find that pedestal! Quickly!"

_Bell of Fire! _

_Ring out your strong and burning melody! _

_May your tune carry across the entire land!_

All three of them stopped as deep, sonorous music rang into their souls.

X

X

X

_"You're very reliable, Owen." Molly smiled. Then she grimaced, as though suddenly in pain. She doubled over, clutching her foot. It was bleeding._

_"This is your fault," she murmured. "You knew I was a newcomer, so why didn't you watch out for me?" She opened her hands, blood dripped between her fingers._

_Why can't you do anything right?_

Owen awoke in his bed. He untangled himself from his sheets and rushed out the door.

"MOLLY!" he demanded, bursting into the kitchen. "WHERE'S MOLLY?"

"Calm down." Plates clattered in the sink as Ramsey washed. "She's at home."

"At home!" the apprentice repeated in disdain, and quickly made for the front door. "She should be in the clinic! Her sprain-"

"-Has been treated by Irene. Phoebe and I brought her to the clinic ourselves, while you were out cold."

Owen's hand had frozen over the doorknob.

"She carried you, you know," Ramsey said, putting away the last dish. "Piggybacked you and your hammer all the way back to ground floor. How she managed that with a sore foot I'll never guess. But she _did_ say she found some bodigizer underneath your hammer; gave her an 'energy boost.' We told her a mole might've left it, if she hit one on accident."

"S-she carried me?" Owen felt heat crawling up his cheeks.

"Yep," Ramsey said, wiping his hands. "When she limped out of that cave, all dirty and tattered, and you lying unconscious on her back, it was like seeing a war hero return from the battlefield. The whole district saw."

"_The whole district?_"

"The whoooole district," Ramsey repeated, settling into a chair. "Now talks are all about the new rancher."

Owen covered his face. "I have to go see her," he finally said.

"She's probably resting now. You can thank her tomorrow."

"I know." Owen pulled on his boots. "But I'm not gonna get any shut-eye till I see her myself." He got up and opened the door to the cool night. "Gramps," the apprentice began quietly, turning to his uncle, "why _did_ you let her go?"

Ramsey frowned, then shrugged. "She was bein' stubborn. Couldn't have stopped her if I tried."

"You know that's not true." Owen gripped the knob harder. "You would've stopped anyone else... Why not her?"

There was silence. The blacksmith appeared to be considering the question carefully. "I felt... it would've been wrong of me to stop her... It would've gone against everything fate and this land had intended."

"...So you're saying," Owen spoke slowly, "fate and this land _intended_ her to go into the mines, injured?" He trusted Ramsey; Owen just wanted to understand. There must be a better explanation. "Why couldn't it wait till her foot healed? You know how dangerous the mines are-"

"Which is why," Ramsey began, ruffled, "I decided to make an exception when you, Chloe, and Phoebe volunteered to go too."

"And if we didn't? Then what?"

"I would've made you."

Owen stared... then slammed the door behind him as he left. He'd figure out what his uncle meant later. Right now, he just wanted to make sure Molly was okay.

X

Molly woke to the sound of singing birds. "Ow," she said hoarsely, as she lifted her head. "Owowowow," she continued to say, as she strained to sit. But the soreness was overwhelming. She flopped back down, submitting to her body's protests. "I think... I'll take a day off today..." Then, wondering where the sprite had gone, since he wasn't on her pillow anymore, she called out, "Finn?"

A clink, a sizzle, and a small yelp erupted in the kitchen area.

"Finn?" Molly repeated with more concern. "What are you doing? I can't turn my head any more so you're gonna have to speak up."

"I was trying..." he said in a constipated voice, which grew louder as he came nearer, "...to make you...coffee..."

Molly felt something placed on her lap. She looked down at the steaming cup on its saucer.

Finn was breathing hard. "Hang on...lemme just catch my breath...before getting the toast." In fairness, the kitchen _was_ at the other end of the house.

"Aww Finn..." Molly slowly pushed herself up against the wall. "This is so sweet of you! Thank you!" She sipped the aromatic liquid.

It took the full power of her viciously-trained self-control not to suddenly spit it out.

"Do you...like it?" Finn rasped.

Very, very reluctantly, Molly swallowed. "I...um..." No, she shouldn't lie, even though he expended great effort to create this ungodly concoction. "W-what did you put in this?" Because whatever it was, it wanted _out_.

Finn grinned. "I wanted to make you something that would fire you up! Get you ready for the day! Make you heal faster! So I put _all sorts_ of things in there! Like fruits and flowers and mushrooms and fish-"

"Actually, you should keep the recipe secret!" Molly smiled, pushing the cup away.

"You're not going to finish it?"

"I-I certainly feel fired up!" It certainly woke her up. In retrospect, the shock that coffee gave her nerves might've been more intense than the sprain.

"But it'll be good with the toast!" He flew excitedly to the kitchen. "I put _all sorts_ of things on those too! It's got honey and herbs and eggs and rice and- ah! Molly, don't get up! The nurse said you have to rest today!" He waved his arms at her.

There was no way Molly was ingesting anything Finn made anymore. "I'm fine..."

"That's what you said to that blacksmith about your foot!" The sprite pointed accusingly. "And now look at it! You should never have carried him all that way! Why, if he didn't come by to thank you, I would've punched him in the nose for being so coldhearted to your kindne-"

"Owen came by yesterday?"

Finn stopped. "Uh, yes, he did. You were already asleep. He didn't even bother knocking...he did leave something outside, though."

Molly grabbed the crutch beside her bed, and staggered to the door.

On the porch lay an orange whistle. Molly picked it up, along with the folded note underneath.

"Molly," she read out loud. "Seems I owe you a piggyback ride." She smiled. "Thanks for taking me home yesterday...It's really humiliating when I think about it...me, knocking out, and you, carrying me home when it should've been the other way around...But hey! You rang the bell! You did what you set out to do! Congratulations!

Sorry I couldn't be much help then, so I'll try to help out now. Remember that bear? Well, this whistle's what called it. Try it when you're on the mountain path. It's supposed to get animals to like you. Just don't blow it too hard like Chloe did, and don't go doing it as soon as you finish reading this! A sprain's no joke. I'm sure Irene's already told you."

"Get some rest. Don't push yourself. You'll hear from me soon," Finn finished.

"So this is the whistle Chloe blew..." Molly looked it over.

"Now we can go see the Goddess," Finn said, thoughtfully. Then he noticed the calculating look in Molly's eyes. "No! You are not going there today! Back inside, little sapling!" He pushed her in. "Even that blacksmith told you to get some rest!"

"All right! All right already!" She laughed, waving Finn away as she settled into her turnip-patterned sheets and put her sprained ankle back into its elevated holster. "I'll rest...But on one condition."

"What?" Finn asked as he tucked her in.

"Make me coffee again?" she said, smiling.

"Oh. Okay."

"But with my recipe this time."

* * *

><p>Guess it's time to change my tone. I WANT REVIEWS! *severe frowny face* :( I WORK REALLY HARD TO MAKE LONG CHAPTERS SO YOU'RE NOT CLIFF-HANGERED (if that's even a word) AND I WANT TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! Even if it's criticism just...please talk to me people! It's my first fic, and I need feedback!<p>

Thank you Momoka Ribbon and HikariKotoneLyrics for your consistent reviewing! You guys are awesome for giving me power :)


	8. Chapter 8: Rumors

The prices in Harvest Moon are roughly based on Japanese currency, so it's funny how the house cost 5000G ($50). Everything else costs about right though.

When I was thinking up a name for Kasey's dad, I didn't know "kale" was a type of cabbage...

Why do all their English names end with an "ee" sound? Molly, Kasey, Kathy, Phoebe, Chloe, Ramsey...

Warning: this chapter is 1000 words longer than the others.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 8: Rumors<span>

Solemn and pondering, Calvin sat cross-legged on the cavern floor; his hands, bearing a small leather-bound notebook, formed a steeple at his frowning mouth. Torchlight flickered dimly in his blue eyes while he watched.

Beyond the archeologist's shadowed form the ancient Red Bell hung, chipped and battered upon its pedestal, and Calvin could feel, even from that distance, the sure and steady beat of pulsing energy.

The Red Bell was _awake_; its abundant spirit seemed to fill the high cavern.

Calvin stared, unmoving, for a few minutes more. Then with slow deliberation he finally stood and dusted himself. Notebook in left hand, he walked up the stone platform, held out two fingers, and firmly pushed the rim.

The Red Bell swung once.

_KANG._

Twice.

_KANGGG._

Its tolls bounced like giant ripples across the cavern walls echoing...echoing...fading. At his feet, pebbles and dust settled; on his arms, hairs stood on end.

That was the third time he had rung the bell; no need to note his findings for this attempt, since it had become quite clear to him now that he would never reproduce its earlier sound no matter how many times he rang it. Certainly, a mysterious power had imbued even _these_ tolls, but its previous ringing had an otherworldly quality, like the voice of Fire itself, free and vivacious and edged with a playful sort of danger.

It was the difference between listening to the radio and attending a concert. Although the radio reproduced music, which itself is pleasing, in a concert music in its purest, freshest form flowed from the artists' souls and aroused one's very own.

The concert had ended hours ago, but its music lingered and danced in the air (and stoves, hearths, furnaces) like fire; its melody had scorched the earth and set people's hearts burning.

And Calvin knew a girl called Molly was its maestro.

The man pocketed his notebook and took one last glance at the bell. Then, fixing his hat, Calvin bowed and humbly left the cavern.

X

X

X

Ruth gave her husband a look of disdain. "Really, Craig?"

"_You_ can make 'im as comfortable as you like, but I ain't lettin' my shed smell like the devilsson's horse," the farmer slurred.

"What," she said acidly, "you're gonna lock up Anissa's room too so it won't smell like the devil's son himself?" She tossed her apron aside. "He saved your life, Craig. And now he's agreed to help us out. Remember that."

The old farmer took another deep swig of beer as she marched out the kitchen with Taylor.

X

Kasey dismounted and looked over the flower fields; its spectrum of dull color stretched across the hills.

At a familiar sound, Kasey turned to a hanging wind chime of a hen and its chicks; it tinkled in the twilight breeze.

The wind chime had been his mother's birthday present to Ruth long ago. Kasey remembered, because his family had picked it out together from the shop full of wind chimes at Harpsichord Town. He remembered the crystalline music, the light that played on the swaying rods and bells, the coolness of the larger wind chimes above as he, sitting on his father's shoulders, ran his small hands across its trilling notes.

With the memory, Kale's words flooded back, and Kasey felt the uncomfortable sensation of his abdomen twisting in on itself. What had happened between now and the moment he had raised the axe to smash the window of his locked house returned with dizzying clarity.

The whole of it was, his father had moved on.

And Kasey knew he should've been ecstatic. He knew he should've been clapping his feet with joy. His father was better, and Kasey was free. Free to come home, free to leave Kale, free from his promise...

And yet... somehow... why did he feel as though he'd been left behind?

...As though he'd been abandoned a second time.

A shout from a smiling Ruth dispersed his drifting thoughts. Taylor was skipping along beside her. "Welcome back!" she shouted. "T-thanks!" Kasey replied. "Good to be back."

"Sorry about the wait," the farmer's wife said breathlessly as she retrieved a set of keys and undid the shed's padlock; its chains rattled to the ground. "My husband was having a drink, and I was just making dinner. Do you like potato stew?"

X

When she had gone to check the boiling pot, Kasey led Raizen into the hay-strewn shed and gloomily removed the saddle. "Let me guess." Kasey cleared his throat, "'I ain't lettin' the devilsson use my shed for his horse!'" He bleakly turned to Taylor. "Close? It would explain the padlock."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Taylor said decidedly.

"And Ruth said to keep quiet about that stuff." The rancher's voice was like gravel.

"...S-still don't know what you're talking about."

"I could've just rented a stall at the Ranch," the older boy said in a monotone, shouldering his rucksack. "You guys didn't have to do all this. I even said so in the letter... We might've spared some bad feelings."

"Nobody even uses this shed!" Taylor irritably shouldered another rucksack. "Dad's just being a douche! Forget him. Me and Mom aren't gonna let his stupid grudge get to you."

Kasey knew that no one liked Kale. So it was only natural to assume that Craig, who disliked half the human race and held the other half in cynical suspicion, saved a special kind of hatred just for his father. The incident should've been water under the bridge; in Craig's case, the water stagnated in pollution, evaporated, and precipitated on everyone's parade as acid rain. Kasey knew he shouldn't take any of the old farmer's misdirected affronts personally. And he didn't. That did nothing to abate the strange, but persistent sense of shame though, for being the man's son.

Then Kasey made a decision: while he was here, he would forget all about Kale and Harpsichord.

They stepped out into the twilight; Taylor's frown suggested he was beginning to feel uncomfortable about the subject, so Kasey ruffled the younger boy's spiky head. He smiled. "Yeah... thanks."

The wind chime tinkled.

X

X

X

"I was careless..." Molly exhaled, frantically pulling on the cast in the privacy of the dining area. "How was I supposed to know other people saw me with a sprain?" Molly thought only Owen, Phoebe, Chloe, and Ramsey required vigilance, since they knew she wasn't due off her crutches for at least two more weeks. But ever since business returned with the fires, the district had its nose to the grindstone, industriously compensating for lost economic time, working again.

This, Owen and Phoebe had told the rancher when they came to visit the other day. Molly, who had grown antsy by day four of the supposed sprain, thought removing the cast, which was hampering her farming, would be inconsequential because Owen and Phoebe would've been too busy to stop by and find her healed. No one else should've known about the injury...

"_Famous_, he said! Why would I be _famous_?" the rancher hissed. It ruined everything.

"You _did_ carry a boy twice your size," Finn informed her helpfully, "_Injured_."

"But no one saw that!" she insisted, then paused. "Well, maybe four, five people, but that was it!"

"We're not in a city anymore, Molly," the sprite drawled, crossing his tiny arms behind his bulbous head. "In a town this small, five people's a lot."

"W-well, you should've told me!" She stamped her supposedly injured foot when she found she had no decent points left to make. "And now someone who knows about the sprain saw me without my cast on!"

Finn looked incredulous. "I told you lots of times!"

Molly looked away in guilt.

"I still don't see why you can't just tell everyone about the Goddess." Finn continued aridly when she did not reply. He alighted on the table. "Show them how your sprain's gone because the Goddess healed it! They'll see it's a miracle and listen to you! Then they'll ring the Bells and we'll be _done_!"

They'd had this argument before. "This is...a delicate matter, Finn."

Finn was unconvinced. He crossed his arms. "Okay, HOW is this a delicate matter? Because it looks to me like telling the truth's the fastest way to bringing the Harvest Tree back!"

"How do we know they won't think I only PRETENDED to have the sprain?" Molly said. "It's a more likely explanation than being miraculously healed by a goddess. Yes, Phoebe, Ramsey, and Owen can vouch for me, but they could be accused of being accomplices to my lie, then I'll end up taking their reputations down along with mine."

"But everyone SAW you come out of that cave injured!" Finn waved his arms. "You _heard_ what Cowboy Hat said!"

Perhaps it would be necessary, at this point, to recap what had happened a mere five minutes ago. A mysterious man in a cowboy hat had come to ask Molly a few questions because he had heard of her from the village. Introducing himself as an archeologist, he had said she was talk of the town; everyone knew how she went down the mines just to ring the bell, how she got a sprain and carried young Owen all the way back up. But since Molly was not wearing her cast at the time, it was all she could do to make him believe the injury was just a rumor ("I did fall awkwardly and was hurt, but I'm all right now, as you can see"), and that she just wanted to ring the bell because she heard about the Harvest King's legend from her father and wanted to see what would happen, since she was down in the mines anyway.

Curiosity, Molly had decided, would be her reason for ringing the bells. Not goddesses, or sprites, or a mission to restore the land to its former glory, but plain curiosity.

Back to the argument, where Molly and Finn are apparently having an arm waving contest.

"There were only five people who actually saw me, tops!" Molly's voice rose, waving her arms with a fury that would have placed Finn's title at risk. "And even then, _could_ they really say I was injured? They might've seen me limping, but did they _really_ see how bad it was? Only Phoebe and the nurse know it for sure! Everyone else at Garmon probably heard it from those five people. My injury may as well be a rumor!"

"But you're FAMOUS, Molly!" Finn shot to her eye level and gestured emphatically, which was a slightly new take on his classic moves. "For going to that cave and ringing the bell, which EVERYONE HEARD! And now the fire's back and everyone's working again, and it's all thanks to YOU! YOU'RE the Goddess' hero! People are bound to recognize that!"

"Where is this confidence coming from?" Molly laughed sarcastically. "YOU were the one complaining all the time about how they've forgotten the Goddess and the sprites!" She pointed in the district's direction. "Calvin and the Goddess said the _same thing_: no one knows the legends anymore! Remember what Alan said? Castanet was supposed to ring the bells every time nature became weak, but they hadn't even rung the bells this time, which is why things have gotten so bad the Goddess had to call us. We're not even supposed to be here, Finn! We're _emergency _helpers that - that not even the Goddess expected she'd EVER have to call. Do you really think the villagers would accept a supernatural explanation for a good foot they didn't even know for sure was injured? Granted, maybe Ramsey will understand, since he knew the story and helped out, but..."

Throughout this speech, Finn did not interject. Stifling his frustration, he floated down to the table, eyes downcast.

After a long silence, Molly said, "Of course, that's not to say my family doesn't count for something... I'd like to get through two years with as few complications as possible. If the village starts to think I'm seeing things..." She broke off. "We've already rung the Red Bell. It shouldn't take long to find the others. There shouldn't be any need to start talking about magic or goddesses..."

Molly gave him a tired smile. "Don't worry. I promised, didn't I? We'll bring the Harvest Tree back... _and_ keep my end of the inheritance contract in the meantime."

Silence reigned between them.

At length Finn answered in a thick voice. "I know..." He sat down, looking exhausted. "It's just, all this hiding is so... _undignified_... considering what we're trying to do."

Molly glanced at him. She lightly scratched her cheek. "Really? I think it's fun hiding."

"What are you gonna do about Cowboy Hat?" the sprite asked, removing his cap and ruffling his hair which had grown sweaty from the heated exchange. "Now he thinks you don't have a sprain. What if he starts telling everyone?"

"...We'll leave him to it," Molly said firmly. She sat down. "Even if he's positive I'm fine, everyone else isn't. If Calvin _does_ start telling people about my good foot, then the district can either ignore him, or believe the injury was just a rumor."

"And if word gets to Glasses and Muscle Guy?"

"I'll pretend to have a sprain until we remove the cast."

"And if all three of them come here together?" Finn's voice had gotten drier with each successive sentence.

Molly bit her lip. "...Calvin will have to play the fool." Lies and scapegoats were strategies of the business world. She'd have to try them out sooner or later...

...Or not. She remembered: he was an archeologist. He was here because her involvement with the bells interested him.

"Cowboy Hat seemed pretty keen on finding out more about you." Finn said thoughtfully. "Somehow I think... he knows the real reason we went down the mines."

Molly shut her eyes. "I think so too." Then she stood and strode - or rather - _limped_ to the door. "We might not have to lie to him after all."

X

X

X

"Molly had a sprain, yes?" Calvin asked with a haunted look, clutching a paper bag to his chest. He had just paid for a magazine and two books.

Phoebe, the cashier, thought she was doing fairly well keeping up with his distracted conversation until now, but the sudden question caught her off guard. Growing up in the country taught you hard work and down-to-earth sensibility. But because Phoebe was raised in the country _and_ possessed an unusually scientific sort of brain, she developed her brethren's no-nonsense Practicality _without_ its usual entail of tradition and superstition. Thus, Phoebe was a tolerant, open-minded, adaptable person who was never bothered by things she wasn't accustomed to. Nevertheless, Calvin's bookish passion was beginning to make her nervous. Still holding out his change, she furrowed her brows. "_What?_"

The adventurer spoke desperately to himself; he had been doing it since he'd entered the shop. "Because if she _did_ have a sprain, then she wouldn't have rung the Red Bell just out of curiosity, right? She would've had a more... _compelling_ reason. A more... _consequential_ reason."

Phoebe worriedly scanned the shop. If any customers had been present, they would probably leave with troubled, backward glances. The thing about Calvin was occasionally not only would _think_ out loud, he'd _move _with his thinking.

"But she seemed fine when I saw her... it's not too farfetched to assume she was healed, right? Deities don't normally meddle in human affairs, but that's what makes Castanet so intriguing... I mean, gods _must_ have come to the aid their chosen heroes at one time or another." He slammed the paper bag flat on the counter. Phoebe had never been one to jump in surprise, but this was close. "Which means she HAS met the Goddess, and my gut feeling has been singing the truth all along!"

Nope, no customers yet. Just her mom, sweeping the store. Their patrons were safe.

"On the other hand," he continued in more subdued tones, "she could've been _pretending_ to have the sprain since the beginning, for reasons that are beyond me." He turned to the cashier with the same haunted look. He had a death grip on the bag; Phoebe couldn't help feeling sorry for it. "What do you think?"

She considered him and his increased strangeness for a moment before taking a deep breath. She answered, "You might want to check again because Molly definitely had a sprain." Calvin brightened. "I was there when they put the new cast on. Her foot was so swollen, it was practically glowing red; it could've lit a Christmas tree."

Calvin spoke in a strained voice, commanding all his self-control not to hug her. "Thank you! Now I must go!"

"AH, YOUR CHANGE! AND WATCH OUT FOR-" Phoebe winced as he sprang out the shop and collided with a man carrying a sack of ores.

Barbara bent over the counter confidentially; both watched as the adventurer bowed in apology and returned the ores hurriedly to its sack.

"He's dreamy. Friend of yours?"

"The archeologist I was telling you about," Phoebe sighed as she put his change in the _Build a Better Bridge_ donation box.

Barbara gasped. "_He's_ that history nerd you met in the mines?" She gawked as Calvin bent down; his unbuttoned shirt hung low, revealing delicious collarbones and a godly chest. "I thought he'd be some gangly kid in an oversized cowboy hat, not... not... _that_!"

"Mom, please..." Phoebe closed her eyes.

Barbara studied him. "Tall, well-built...dirty blonde locks, royal blue eyes...a _handsome_ jaw line, and the _size_ of those arms! Mmm-mmm, wouldn't you just love to be cuddled in those!"

"Watch your chin," Phoebe warned in amusement. "I think I see drool."

Barbara slapped her daughter's arm reprovingly. "You ought to be ashamed! All the district girls are jealous you have so many good-looking guy friends, but you've never dated any of them! What they'd give to be in your shoes!" She counted off her fingers. "There's Luke, and Owen, and that one who lives in Harpsichord now..."

"Kasey?" the inventor suggested tiredly, then shook her head. "But mom, I'm not-"

"I'd say this one's even hunkier than Owen, and has a college degree to boot!"

"Hey!" Phoebe began defensively on the miner's behalf, "Owen might never go to college, but that doesn't mean he's not smart!" Phoebe paused, reconsidering. "Well, he _is_ the type to jump into a potentially fatal situation just to get girls to look, but he does all right... most of the time... sometimes... okay, _rarely_, without other people's help, but still!"

Two shops across, Owen sneezed into his soba. Chloe sang and pointed, "Spring allergies!"

"Oh, I didn't mean it that way!" Barbara impatiently waved a hand. Holding up an ominous finger, she spoke slowly in her lecture voice. "I'm only saying that this one is a _catch_, and if I've raised you like a good mother at all, you'd know to keep him in the palm of your hand till he grows into a fine man, then you reel him in with a little seduction and a couple glasses of cocktail, and once you've got him wrapped around your ring finger, promote him to boyfriend status, and then-"

"He's twenty-eight. He's already a man."

Barbara froze mid-run-on-sentence, then immediately came to a decision. She announced airily, "All the better! Means you can promote him to boyfriend status sooner."

Phoebe was aghast.

"Twenty-eight huh? My eyes must be getting bad. Didn't get a good look in."

Sure, Phoebe thought, still aghast. Seemed to notice his hair and eyes and arms well enough. "Mom! He's too o-"

"_Hushush_!" The mother held up a hand. "No child of mine is growing up to be a cat lady! Or worse, marry one of her robotic inventions."

"As if that's ever going to happ-"

"I had a nightmare about it once," she began, shuddering, "You created little baby robots..."

Phoebe rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, and they called you 'grandma'-"

"I gotta admit, they were kind of cute, but still! _Robots_! Out of all the handsome boys you could've had, and all handsome grandchildren I could've raised for you!"

"Mom, please don't... do anything... you know... embarrassing," she almost begged. "Because last time you kept telling them to come over and-"

"We'll tell your father about this lovely specimen of a man once he gets home." With an air of finality, Barbara swung the broom onto her shoulder and made for the house.

"Ughhhhh..." _Ding!_

The first sound, you might have guessed, was the sound of Phoebe groaning. The second was the sound of the register, as Phoebe crashed her forehead onto it.

X

X

X

Molly was sweeping the barn when a rather husky voice let itself be heard from the doorway behind her. She jumped, broom raised ready to smack whatever it was that had made the sound.

"Hello again, Miss Molly!"

"Calvin?"

He was bent over and breathing hard, but smiling. "Good speed! And what poise! With reflexes like that, would've been a damn shame if your ankle had indeed been sprained." Calvin regarded her feet. "Speaking of which, is that...a cast?"

"Er..." Molly didn't lower the broom; alarm bells were ringing in her head. "My foot suddenly felt bad so-"

"-You know how long a sprain takes to heal?" The man composed himself, hand on hat.

"No," she lied; Irene had told her. She tried to laugh. "I'm sorry sir, but if this is supposed to be new route of inquiry, I don't see what a sprain's got to do with-"

"A stretched ligament takes two to three weeks," he said. "Longer if the ligament tears. How long since the Red Bell played its melody? Four days?" Smugness spread on his face. "Yours healed far too quickly, Miss Molly."

"W-what are you talking about?" Molly said lightly, "I never had a sprain."

"Phoebe said you did."

The rancher made an involuntary gulp.

Calvin had won.

"Phoebe was with you, wasn't she? At the clinic?" His voice was low as he stepped closer. "She said your foot was in really bad shape. I wouldn't be surprised; you carried your friend a long way up, after all." He took another step; excitement flashed in his blue eyes. This was it. He had found her at last! Right now he was beholding a living artifact straight off the scriptures and history texts. "So how'd you do it? How'd you make it heal so fast? Magic?"

"D-DON'T COME ANY CLOSER!" Molly shrieked, brandishing the broom.

Calvin stopped, arms raised in a gesture of submission.

"W-what do you want?" Molly said.

Calvin answered calmly. "Nothing. I'm just a fan. I just want to know more."

Molly eyed him; Calvin did not move.

Slowly, Molly lowered her broom.

Calvin's eyes never left hers. "I don't want to get in the way of anything," he said. "I'm on your side. I want to help Castanet too. But if this is something that must be kept secret, then..." An archeologists' pride sparkled in his gaze. "...you have my word, 'tis a secret I shall keep to the grave!"

X

X

X

The District's main street teemed with Garmoners and the noise of industry; wood was hauled in, mine carts filled with ore rolled along its rusted tracks and snapped into place; the sound of chopping, sawing, and the sharpening of tools filled the once desolate air. Talking, shouted commands, and the occasional booming laughter of big muscular men, carried with the wind and rose higher with the merry twisting of furnace smoke.

By some miracle, fire had returned to the Garmon District, and its people seized the chance bring their livelihoods back.

"Psst! Owen!" Luke whispered, crouching behind a coal cart. As soon as he said it, he slapped his mouth shut and looked around suspiciously.

The blacksmith lowered the canteen from his lips, eyes bloodshot and watery from working five hours at the furnace; a towel was slung around his sweaty neck. He was leaning against the wall. "Make it quick, man. Got twenty-three orders to wrap up soon as this break's done."

"I know, I know," the carpenter whispered. "Got a lot to do myself. Pop's gonna kill me if he finds out I'm here, but this," Luke whispered darkly, "this couldn't wait."

Owen failed to feel the urgency. "What's up?"

"You hook up with the new ranch girl?"

Owen choked on his water just as he took a swig.

"HOLY MOTHER OF HARVEST KINGS!" Luke hissed, crouching even lower. "_YOU DID_?"

"_OF- COURSE- NOT!_" Owen managed between coughs.

Luke's head titled to one side. "Then why's your face gettin' all red?"

"I'M NOT- I DIDN'T-" Owen stammered and wheezed. "_IT'S NOT RED_!"

"All right, all right," Luke whispered placidly, doing a calming gesture with his hands. "Just putting 'em rumors to rest."

"RUMORS?" Owen repeated in loud surprise, nearly spilling his water as he struggled to stand properly. It was as though his legs had turned into noodles. "_WHAT RUMORS?_"

"You better watch out for the _sisters_, then," Luke whispered. "They've been tellin' everyone that ranch girl was only pretendin' to have a sprain so she could get close to you. Now I'd better go!" He made a bird-like pose. "Like a ninja in the night!"

Luke disappeared, leaving Owen with an outstretched arm and many unanswered questions.

"...Interesting."

The blacksmith rarely jumped in surprise, but this was close. "Phoebe!" he squeaked; he coughed. "I mean, Phoebe. You, uh...heard all that?"

"Pretty much." She studied his face thoughtfully. "So... you hooked up with her after all."

"NO!" If his face could have exploded from embarrassment, it would have. "Of course not! She- at the mines- we didn't- NOTHING HAPPENED!"

"I'm just kidding," Phoebe waved him off, and raised an amused and knowing eyebrow. "Never thought the charismatic Casanova would be reduced to a babbling prepubescent by a few rumors."

Feeling that his dignity had been thoroughly molested, the offended blacksmith turned away.

"I've got work to do," he muttered. "What do you want?"

"I heard something strange today, concerning Molly."

"Look, I already said-"

"It's not that..." She fidgeted, and because that was unusual for the unflappable Phoebe, Owen paid attention. "At first I thought maybe Calvin's enthusiasm had caused him to make a mistake, but..." She looked at the busy street; ever since Molly rang the bell, life had returned to Garmon. Phoebe's voice was low. "...that story, about the bells and the Harvest Goddess, you don't suppose it's... _real_, do you?" She scoffed the word. It was a doubtful scoff. The kind done by duelists with an overwhelming upper hand, who then get this itchy suspicion that their strongest card combo is just about to experience a painful and impossible obliteration because their opponent has just smirked...

Memories unfolded in the movie theatre of Owen's brain.

_Someone in an orange cap and bodysuit told me to go see the harvest tree. His name's Finn._

_I felt it would've been wrong of me to stop her. It would've gone against everything fate and this land had intended._

Owen laughed nervously. "I didn't think _you_ of all people would start believing in that sorta stuff. Gramps seems to buy it though."

Phoebe sighed. "No..." she conceded. "You're right. It's just... you didn't hear the bell, so it might not strike you as something special, but _that_, and the fact Calvin thought her sprain had miraculously healed is making me think maybe the story isn't _entirely_ an old wives' tale."

"Miraculously healed?" Owen repeated incredulously, then sighed. "Well, I wouldn't be surprised if she started farmin' even with the sprain. Your friend probably made a mistake."

A thoughtful silence fell upon them both.

"Was the bell sound really that amazing?" Owen asked quietly.

"The most amazing thing I've ever heard," Phoebe said, eyes momentarily glazing at the memory and the feelings she felt when she heard it. She jerked her head at the blazing furnace. "Even the fires seem to think so. And _that's_ according to the story too."

"So I've heard. Gramps has been tellin' me and Chloe one tale after another since the bell incident. Who's to say they ain't got some credibility though, eh? I mean, the fire _is_ back to normal; I can smelt copper again, not to mention cook a decent meal. Cold soba gets old fast, lemme tell you. Bad for digestion. Don't know how Gramps stomachs it all the time, which literally says a lot about his guts."

"So you _do_ believe the stories." Phoebe was doing her iconic eyebrow raise that made people who weren't necessarily stupid feel like they were.

Owen stopped. Listening to both his uncle and Molly had changed his perspective on a few things. "I guess... you can say I'm starting to." He wiped his face with the towel on his neck. "And I know you are. Ever since you met this Calvin guy, you've gone back to _reading_ more than inventing." He grinned at her. "Is it archy-whatsit that's caught your fancy, or the guy who talks about it?"

To Phoebe's shock, she felt heat float from her stomach to her face. It was such a foreign sensation that she was puzzled by it, and therefore was even more puzzled because that too was a foreign, but slightly more recognizable, sensation. In effect, her emotions had begun a vicious cycle of heat in the cheeks, puzzlement, humiliation, and more heat in the cheeks. The end result was that if her face had a brightness contest with a florescent lamp, the lamp would have lost. Despite all this, however, Phoebe barely managed to sound prim and matter-of-fact. Barely. "It's not him that interests me, if that's what you're suggesting. It's the things he talks about... Sometimes I feel outsiders know more about our town than we do."

"Means I'm winnin' that bet with Luke."

Phoebe did her iconic 'what the hell are you talking about?' look that made people who weren't necessarily silly feel like they were. Except for Owen, who was no longer affected by her iconic looks, which was a shame because he and Luke were the only ones who regularly got them. "_What?_"

"Five thousand G," Owen stared above her head wistfully. "_He_ said you'd marry one of your robots, _I_ said you'd marry some nerdy dude- ow! What was that for?" He rubbed his stinging arm. "I was on your side!"

"You sound just like Mom," Phoebe exhaled as she skipped down the porch. "I'm not interested in that sort of thing!"

"Ohh you will be," the blacksmith drawled knowingly. "Wait 'til the hormones kick in. You'll be sighin' and daydreamin' and doin' all sorts of dumb stuff you never thought you'd do! I know I did."

"You still do!" Phoebe replied irritably, spinning to face him. "And the hormones have already-" There was no point in correcting his flawed knowledge of human physiology. "Forget it." She stalked back to her own store, muttering, "He's eleven years older me. Am I the only one who thinks that's weird?"

On the other side of the door, Owen paused in thought.

Talking to Phoebe helped him figure out how he felt about all this - his uncle's sudden compulsion to pass on fairy tales, the good things Molly's acts of recklessness had brought to the town, the strange things that she had said.

He owed her an apology, since he didn't believe her story about the bell before now. And a discreet visit, to check if she was resting her foot like she should've been.

Then there were rumors...

His cheeks felt hot again. Damn Luke, ninja-ing away before giving him the news properly, and damn himself for forgetting to ask Phoebe about the sisters, and damn this weird feeling at the pit of his stomach when he thought about her.

Was she really that interesting? Sure she was pretty and all, and you had to admire her guts, but he'd met lots of other girls like that. And she was an idiot. An unlucky idiot who'd bought a farm where the land was as barren as Mt. Garmon's snow-clad peaks, an idiot who'd tramped down the mines with a bad foot, an idiot who'd carried a 170 lb body builder uphill on said bad foot...

...An idiot who'd brought life back to the Garmon District.

He looked at the bright furnace; the embers were dancing on the hot coals.

He owed her a thank you, too.

X

X

X

"You pass."

Calvin blinked at Molly's grinning face. He wasn't sure he understood. Was there a test? Of all the possible intelligent and sensible responses to this surprising statement, Calvin chose, "Eh?"

"Finn and I weren't sure if you could be trusted. Depending on your answer I was either going to let you believe I had pretended to be injured, or tell you the truth." Then she suddenly said, "Yes, I _do_ think it'll be all right!"

Calvin began cautiously, "You mean to say-"

"I'm sorry, would you excuse us for a moment," Molly said apologetically and turned around to whisper at air. She seemed to be having a heated conversation with it. Snippets (of her side, of course) floated to his ears as he watched her pump her broom like an angry majorette.

"Wasn't that we intended from the beginning? ...'Cause he has nothing to do with this! ...You said it'd be okay...well, you should've changed your mind sooner..."

Calvin waited patiently until they reached some sort of reluctant compromise.

"Right!" Molly said finally, huffing.

"Was that a sprite?"

"What?"

"A sprite," Calvin said, "the one you were speaking to, just now."

Molly couldn't help but notice: he was glowing. His face was a portrait of joy and awe, and he had politely removed his hat, holding it to his chest instead in an attitude of respect. She wasn't expecting this sort of reaction. He had just witnessed someone arguing with herself, after all.

So she answered, "yes," and glared briefly at the air beside her as though it had protested. "But my...er...companion has insisted that I tell you no more."

Calvin's glow visibly dimmed.

"Unless," she added hurriedly, "you promise to help us and the town by sharing with us everything you know about the legends. And that you won't ever tell anyone what we're up to until...until we decide it's okay. Can you promise that?"

The decision was an easy one to make. "I promise," he said. "And let me just say, it is truly an honor to be in your presence, Miss Molly, and to be in the presence of a noble harvest sprite." He gave them a deep bow.

Molly was used to being bowed to. Her parents' guests bowed to her all the time, and so did the servants at home. But this was supposed to be different. Molly didn't want to be bowed to, not here. She was still holding the broom. "Please, there's no need for formality-" she began, then she saw the sprite beside her, and giggled, "-but I should let you know that my companion is very pleased. Thank you."

X

X

X

Kasey awoke to the now familiar smell of bluemist and the sound of singing birds. Eyes twisted shut, Kasey pushed away the bunny-patterned quilt, flopped to the floor where his bag lay unzipped, and groped for his toothbrush.

The door was kicked open. "RISE AND SHINE SLEEPING BEAUTY!" Taylor yelled. "TIME TO HARVEST THEM FLOWERS- oh, you're up."

Kasey was sprawled on his bag like a corpse.

Grinning, Taylor poked the lifeless head. "Finally used to Marimba Farm's Special Quota Week Schedule, eh?"

Kasey grunted. It was far too early, even for farmer standards.

Taylor grabbed the rancher's ankles and dragged him out the room.

X

Rubbing her jacketed arms, Molly climbed up Marimba's porch and, yelping in surprise, tripped aside to let a large crate pass.

"Um, good morning," she politely told the crate.

The crate stopped its descent. Then, somewhere beneath it, Craig replied gruffly. "Good morning."

Molly stood surprised; in their few encounters, Craig had never been this civil. Could they now possibly be called, dare she say it, friends? Molly felt a little happy.

This was an opportunity to increase friendship points! "Do you need help with that?"

"Get what you came here for and leave. We're busy today."

The crate lumbered on.

X

_Tingalingling! _rang the shop bell vehemently. The door slammed.

_Bummer. First thing in the morning and already met Craig_, Kasey thought, as he searched the counter's shelves for a clipboard Ruth had told him to bring her.

He still hadn't found it when a thud above him indicated the customer was ready to pay. He sighed, giving up. Best call Ruth.

"Hang on." He stood. "Let me get the shop keep-"

He saw the pouting, auburn-haired girl just as she faced him, wallet in hand.

At that moment, time had stopped.

The sprite watched their blank faces. Then, sweatdropping, Finn flailed his arms. _Aw c'mon! Don't tell me you've forgotten each other already?_

Recognition struck them.

"Kasey!"

"Molly!"

_And Finn! _the sprite added dryly.

"You work here?" Molly looked his blue overalls up and down, puzzled.

"Er, for now," Kasey replied quickly. "Till we plant the new crops next week-" His brain was sluggish; that's why he didn't immediately recognize her, though perhaps her baggy eyes and slightly unkempt hair helped put him off. Too much had happened in the past few days that weighed heavily in his mind, and Marimba Farm's special schedule had kept him busy enough to make him tired.

(He never realized it was the former that really affected his stamina. Physically, Kasey was capable of handling all his fields at harvest time, which together were half as big as Marimba's, solo, while _they_ had four people; granted, he'd occasionally forgo sleep, wielding dual sickles and a basket four times the normal size strapped onto his back, and looking like a clumsy tornado spinning across his fields until Cain would come by the next morning for pick up. He'd found Kasey's inert body collapsed in a heap on top of the shipping bin, covered in mangled stems and bits of leaves. Ah yes. Those were the days.)

Amazing, how trivial family matters can eclipse matters that involved bigger things, namely the goddess and therefore Molly. Kasey had just stopped himself from asking about Her.

But Molly's brain was sluggish too. Although she had nurtured a seven-story greenhouse every day after school since she was seven, it was not until her arrival at Castanet that she had wholly thrown herself into the muscle-aching wonders of being a full-time farmer. The first week had been hell - tilling the soil, jogging across the countryside to buy seeds, planting the seeds, forgetting to get more seeds, jogging across the countryside once more - and just generally getting some of the renovation work done. The barn's roof kept rain out like a sieve, the chicken coop was about as resistant to gravity as a wet sandcastle on a hot day, what with the ecosystem of diverse insect life thriving in its ancient boards. Molly had tilled, planted, weeded, watered, swept, hammered, boarded, cleared up things, sprayed insecticide, woke up earlier than the sun and crashed onto her bed, which after months of moth and rainwater had lost all semblance to its previous identity, long after it had slunk down the horizon. Then there was Finn and the bells. And this long paragraph explains why she didn't immediately recognize him, though his bed hair and baggy eyes may have helped as well.

Basically, to each other, they looked rather like zombies. It was only Finn who hadn't changed.

"Where are you staying?" Molly went on earnestly, also restraining herself from asking about the goddess. It wasn't safe to talk about it where other people could hear.

"Their place, at the back," he explained. We're pretty busy right now, said his mind, so I'll see you at your farm when I can. Kasey opened his mouth to let the words out, but Molly beat him to it.

"I'm always at the farm. You look busy so, let's talk when you're available?"

"O-okay," answered his open mouth.

X

Besides the time-consuming task of harvesting flowers, Marimba Farm also arranged them, packaged them, and delivered them across Harmonica, mostly in bulk, to storeowners that used the seasonal crops especially for the festival. Marimba was the only farm in Castanet that produced flowers, and Harmonica was one of the few places in the world that still held flower festivals; the event had been a popular tourist attraction years ago.

Because of such circumstances, Kasey will not be able to meet with Molly until the Festival.

And when they do, it should be fun, right? All those flowers and the sky and everyone being there...

X

Omake

Owen: You said the _whole district_ saw!

Ramsey: [Puffs a smoke] Nah. I was just messin' with ya.

* * *

><p>I'm pretty decent at keeping track of things in the story, but occasionally I'll miss some stuff and bits won't make sense to you. So if you have any questions about anything, please review. If you'd like to see a particular pairing, please review, because I'll consider it. If you just wanna comment on how terrible this fic is, you should also review. If you're feeling bored, or generous, or just have a lot of time in your hands, go and review the previous chapters too.<p>

I know it's a long fic... and I'm sorry for having written something that demands so much of you as a reader - I'll be honest, if I saw this on FFN, I probably wouldn't read it myself because of how long it is - but I'm writing it because I like all the Harvest Moon characters and want to see them together in one, big happy fanfic. There's like, more than twenty characters. If I develop all of them...it'll take years to finish this. So I won't develop all of them (especially not the villagers), but they'll all be mentioned at least once.

My version of them may seem a little OOC, but I've thought about their personalities with one basic principle in mind: that if one were to push their game personalities a little over the edge, this is what they'd be. I'm still exploring their minds and hearts and things, but hopefully what I'll end up showing to you is worthwhile in some way.


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